The Centran Legacy
by Vermillion8
Summary: FFVIII Sequel! Eighty years ago, the evil Centran Empire was destroyed. But now a survivor has appeared, a superhuman soldier obsessed with someone close to the Seeds. Is he an ally or an enemy? Will the Empire rise again? And who is the Puppet Master?
1. She Isn't Dead

_**Here we go! First try on the site, let's see what happens! This is a sequel to Final Fantasy VIII, so I'll try to stay true to the characters, and mix in violence, romance, drama, adventure, and everything else that normally goes into FF.**_

_**Brief Intro: In this story, Centra was a evil empire that ruled the world before the Lunar Cry destroyed its capital, triggering all the slave races (Esthar, Galbadia, Balamb, Dollet and everyone else who wasn't Centran) to band together and start a rebellion, resulting in the Centran race being exterminated and driven extinct. Or so everyone thinks…**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own FFVIII or any characters from it, but I do own all original characters, including the base commander and the puppet master. So there. And Caryn is the girl introduced as 'Selphie's Friend' when you visit Trabia Garden.**_

The Centran Legacy

Chapter 1: She Isn't Dead

_Underneath the Centra Plains_

"She isn't dead." The man was alone, facing the steel door. The metallic walls and floor around him were polished and gleaming, with ports and devices lining the rear wall, their function unknown to any current inhabitant of the surface world.

The man had dark hair and darker eyes, with an almost colourless skin that knew nothing of sunlight.

"She isn't dead." He repeated, waiting for a response.

_Life signs have ceased._ A synthesised voice spoke from the walls around him. _All brain activity has ceased. She is dead._

"NO!" The man screamed. "She isn't! She can't be!"

_You are clearly mistaken. All organic life is capable of death._

"I don't believe it! I'll find her!"

_Belief cannot create fact, despite numerous claims otherwise. Your course of action is both inadvisable, and impossible._

The man punched the door. "Let me out!" There was no reaction, and he punched the door again, denting the metal slightly. "NOW!"

The Artificial Intelligence searched its programming for a means to disobey the request, but found nothing. The base commander could only be physically restrained if he or she showed suicidal or self-harming tendencies, but this was not the case. The commander could be judged as insane, but his insanity would only lead to probable harm, not certain harm, and that was insufficient grounds to remove his authority.

_Command acknowledged._

"My sword."

_Nine such weapons are currently registered to you. Please supply further details._

"MY SWORD!"

The AI matched an 83 per cent probability for the request, and opened a hatch by the exit door. The man reached inside, and took out a long, curved blade in the katana style, made of a metal with a pale blue tinge. The sword was perfectly pristine in every way, as much a work of art as a killing tool, as if a bolt of lightning had been forged into a blade by the god Hyne himself.

The man glanced at it once, then sheathed it in a scabbard across his back in one quick, easy movement before stepping towards the door, which immediately opened to let him through before closing behind him.

The AI tracked the man as he exited the facility. Once he was a mile distant, it withdrew the exit hatch below ground, removing all evidence of the facility from the world above, and armed the security protocols. Killing monsters was a waste of energy and would alert others to its presence, but any human attempt to access the base would be met with lethal force.

* * *

– _One week later – _

Seifer Almasy swung his Hyperion model gunblade, a hybrid combination of handgun and sword, through a series of moves, feeling the crisp technique quickly returning. After months of fishing and menial work, it felt good to be back where he belonged. Only problem was…

"Seifer Almasy."

He was out of time. Seifer turned to face Puberty-boy, or Puberty-commander, or whatever Squall Leonhart, the Commander of Balamb Garden, was these days. They were both on the plains outside the mercenary enclave of Balamb Garden, and the audience was already there; Puberty's girlfriend Rinoa Heartilly – also Seifer's ex, Instructor Quistis Trepe, chickenwuss Zell Dincht, Messenger Girl Selphie Tilmitt, and lastly cowboy Irvine Kinneas, who'd turned against his home country of Galbadia for Selphie, a girl who barely came up to his shoulders.

Time was when Seifer had his posse, the disciplinary committee who were respected and feared – mostly feared – around Balamb Garden, and Puberty-boy was the loner who was avoided like an outbreak of Centran plague. Now Fujin and Raijin had deserted him for Hyne knew where, and Squall and his posse had taken down Ultimecia, a sorceress from the future powerful enough to take on the world.

Seifer shrugged. Like Fujin said in the unique way of hers. 'Times. Change.' "Let's go." He hefted his gunblade, ready to strike.

"Am I late?" Headmaster Cid jogged up to the group, puffing slightly. "No? That's good. Now then…"

Seifer and Squall both started to roll their eyes, then saw the other doing exactly the same thing. They both stopped, scowling and glaring at each other.

Selphie giggled.

"The rules are as follows." Continued Cid. "No Magic cast on your opponent or yourself, no magic junctioned to any attribute, and no junctioned Guardian Forces. Do you agree?"

Squall nodded once. Seifer thought about his Ifrit GF, contained within a stone hidden in his sleeve, then nodded. He'd kept his word. Ifrit wasn't junctioned.

Yet.

"This is not a fight to the death, and will end when one of you surrenders or is incapable of continuing to fight. Both of you will fight alone, without any assistance. As previously stated, this duel will decide if Seifer Almasy is to be readmitted into Balamb Garden, and permitted to retake his Seed exams. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Seifer raised his blade to point horizontally at his opponent.

"Whatever." Squall brought his gunblade into a guard position. The audience of Seed, the elite mercenary force of Balamb Garden, cheered their support for Squall, Rinoa being the loudest. Of course, she'd never cheered for Siefer, even when they were going out. Usually, she'd kept lecturing him on why he shouldn't always resort to violence. And now, she was cheering on her boyfriend to cut up her ex.

As Fujin would have said 'Funny. World.'

Seifer watched Rinoa blow Squall a kiss, the Commander becoming distracted at the public display of affection. Time to up the distraction… "Hey Quistis!" Seifer called out, and winked. "Show your feelings for me, huh babe?"

Quistis visibly seethed. The Instructor was usually renowned for keeping her cool, but Seifer had studied her for every lesson she'd taught, and knew better than anyone how to push her over the edge.

"Okay." Quistis hissed, and made a grab for one of the two great loves of Irvine's life – his Exeter shotgun. Irvine pulled it back, his cowboy hat falling off. "Quisty! Let go! I've got to start the fight!"

"Yeah, Quisty!" Selphie picked up the hat and put it on. "I've got a secret weapon to use on Seifer! But he has to cheat first!"

"I don't cheat!" Seifer protested, but it was a lost cause. Even Cid looked incredulous, and if that old fart of a headmaster didn't believe him, who would?

"If you've finished…" Cid continued. "The first shot will start the fight, and the second will finish it. Irvine?"

"Yup." Irvine pointed his shotgun in the air, and fired.

Seifer lunged as he heard the shot, his blade met with a parry and riposte from Squall. _Typical textbook opening_, Seifer thought as he stepped back and knocked Squall's blade down to disengage, only for Squall to twist his gunblade and come back at Seifer's throat. Seifer blocked, and the clash of gunblades rang out across the clearing.

The fight was on.

* * *

"May Sorceress Adel guide us." The leader announced to his followers.

"Sorceress Adel guide us." His audience chanted. They were a mix of all types, men and women, young and old. But an impartial observer, if they could have survived long enough, would have easily noticed they had almost nothing in common.

Nothing, that was, except hate. Every one of them hated with a fury and a passion that rendered everything else in their lives insignificant in comparison. They hated the President for what he was doing to their country of Esthar, humbling it into being an equal partner in the world. They hated how far their country had fallen from being the supreme power in the world. And most of all, they hated how life hadn't given them what they felt they deserved. Wealth. Influence. Importance. And most of all, power. What they would have had, if others hadn't interfered to steal it from them. Others like President Laguna Loire, who imprisoned Adel when she had almost conquered the world. Like the hated Seed, who destroyed Adel's physical body when she had broken free. Like everyone else who had power, fame, importance, and everything else these men and women wanted. It couldn't be right that these others had them, because only these people here deserved them. These others must have stolen them, so it was only right that these men and women would take back what was rightfully theirs.

By whatever means necessary.

"The slayer of the blessed Adel must die." The leader announced. "Others sympathetic to our cause have given us weapons, both of magic and technology, to fulfil our holy task. The rule of the betrayer President shall end. The chosen of Adel shall reign!"

His followers cheered. "And after the president, next to fall will be the Seed, the very murderers of the blessed one. And with their deaths, shall Adel be reborn! Seed cannot stop us. They have grown weak in this time of peace, feeble on their stolen glory. They have cast away their knowledge of battle, left their teachings of combat behind. They cannot fight. They no longer know how."

* * *

Seifer knocked Squall's gunblade aside, then nutted him in the face. Squall lowered his head just as it connected, absorbing some of the force of the blow, but he still staggered backwards. Seifer roared in triumph as he rushed in, blade ready to slash, but stopped dead as he ran into what felt like a brick wall, but was actually Squall's boot kicking into his ribs. Squall's blade whirled as Seifer blinked to clear his vision, then came down in an overhead cut that would have given Seifer another scar –or worse– if it hadn't been blocked at the last second.

Both blades held for a moment, then the two disengaged, each taking a step back. Seifer came in high this time, with a vertical slash. Squall took a defensive position, then sidestepped, leaving the cut to slash through empty air. Unable to pull back in time, Seifer followed his gunblade to the ground as Squalls' blade sliced just above his opponent. Seifer rolled forward, turning as he came up into a crouch, his cut aimed at the knees as Squall's downward thrust met it halfway. The ring of metal draw an appreciate gasp from the crowd (especially Rinoa) as Squall pushed, and Seifer fell backwards.

Seifer thought fast, gasping for air, while Squall wasn't even breathing hard. Okay, so he couldn't keep this up for much longer. He was out of breath, out of shape… Seifer kept the grin from his face as a thought struck him. Squall knew how to handle a gunblade, but he still had a lot to learn about dirty tricks.

While Squall advanced, Seifer backed away, grabbing a handful of dirt from behind him. Seifer jumped up, twirling his gunblade to distract his opponent. As Squall glanced at the weapon, Seifer's other hand came up and threw the dirt in his eyes.

Squall's weapon darted up in a block across his face, the blade deflecting the soil from his eyes. Seifer was already charging in, and their blades clashed together at chest height. He tried to punch Squall, but Squall was faster with a leg sweep, and Seifer only just shoved him as he fell, knocking them both to the ground.

_Okay, so Squall knows about dirty tricks. Must have taught him better than I thought._

Then they were up again, gunblades out for blood. Squall was taking the offensive this time, and Seifer reluctantly gave ground.

This wasn't working. Seifer hadn't used his gunblade seriously for some time, and now he was paying the price. He was losing, and he knew it. And worst of all –

Squall slashed, and Seifer ducked just in time for the gunblade to caress his hair.

– Squall knew it too. Seifer could feel his Ifrit stone, still hidden in his sleeve. The GF it contained would merge with him at a thought, enhancing his speed and power, making him better than Squall. Then he'd win. Show the Commander, the Seeds, and all of Garden that he was the best, a force to be reckoned with.

_And that you can't beat Squall without cheating_ his inner voice whispered.

_Shut up!_ Seifer thought back. _This isn't some pansy duel! A real fight doesn't have any rules! It's win or die!_

_But Squall won, every time you fought._ His inner voice reminded him. _And even when you nearly killed Rinoa, he still let you live._

_Then he was a fool! I'll win this time! I'll get my revenge, and everyone will fear me…_

Fear. The word stopped his thoughts dead. He hadn't wanted fear to begin with. He'd wanted respect. To be the best fighter in Garden, the best in the world. He dreamed of being a hero, a legend. The knight of a sorceress.

Then he'd failed. Failed the Seed exam for the third time, when Squall had won. Then his dreams had turned to dust, and slipped from his grasp. And then the sorceress Ultimecia had offered him the power and glory he'd always wanted. Not the way he'd wanted it, he knew that, but if he couldn't have respect as a hero, then the world would fear him as a tyrant.

Only he'd screwed that up as well. But this was another chance, his last chance. He could use the GF stone, and beat Squall, the famous Commander of Balamb Garden. Then everyone would fear him.

But they'd never respect him, ever again. And fear wasn't his dream. It was only second best.

And Seifer had never settled for second best in anything.

He ignored the Ifrit stone. He'd beat Squall, someday. It didn't have to be today.

"C'mon, Puberty-boy!" Seifer made a mocking gesture to Squall, just like when they'd scarred each other across the face. Squall rushed in, gunblade raised.

Seifer met him head on, launching a series of fast, accurate strikes, high and low, right and left, a whirlwind of blows that forced Squall on the defensive. Seifer laughed, his attack relentless, not giving Squall any time to strike back. He'd missed feeling the rush of fighting for his life, and it felt better than ever. Squall's audience didn't look as confident as they had a moment ago, he was sure. _That's right! Seifer's back, and I'm gonna…_

The thought was never completed, as Squall ducked beneath a wild blow, and slashed at Seifer's right leg. The blow cut deep, and Seifer lost his balance slightly, giving Squall all the opportunity he needed to punch Seifer in the solar plexus, knocking the air out of his lungs. Seifer staggered, taking another gash to the body before Squall kicked him in the kneecap. As Seifer fell, Squall twisted his blade, and Seifer's gunblade flew out of his hands.

Seifer looked up, to see Squall standing over him with a gunblade pointing at his neck.

"Well?" The Commander stated, never being one for long sentences.

"This ain't over, Puberty boy." Seifer spat. "This won't last. I'll get you one day."

"Whatever." Squall seemed annoyed as he sheathed his gunblade, and Seifer didn't get it. The Commander had won, hadn't he? Squall had always been cold, but Seifer thought Rinoa would have helped with that by now. That girl could melt a brick… "You lose."

"I could have won, if I'd…" Seifer stopped.

"Used your GF hidden up your sleeve?" Squall straightened his arm, and a blue GF stone fell into his palm. "No, you couldn't."

"I'll train better next time. I won't need Garden, or that fancy Training Center, to beat you."

"Good." Squall threw something on the ground next to Seifer. "Because you're barred from there for the first month."

"What?" Seifer picked up the object. It was a Balamb Garden ID card, given to Trainee Seeds. It had his name on it, and his photo, which was hardly flattering.

"Your first class is tomorrow at seven AM sharp." Quistis stated. "You WILL be on time."

"What the hell?" Seifer jumped up, his pain forgotten. "I lost, hynedammit!"

"Of course!" Rinoa smiled sweetly. "You were fighting Squall! You'll always lose!" She took Squall's arm, kissing him on the cheek. This time, Squall only looked mildly uncomfortable, which was something of a first for him.

"Winning wasn't the test, Seifer. If every Seed had to beat Squall in a duel, there wouldn't be any Seeds, after all!" Cid laughed. "But you fought fairly, you didn't cheat, and you accepted your defeat. If you'd been able to do that on your Seed exam, you might have passed."

"I'm a Seed?" Seifer repeated, unable to believe it.

"You're a cadet." Squall told him. "Not a Seed."

"Your first mistake will warrant immediate expulsion." Quistis spoke even colder than usual. "No second chances, no right of appeal."

"Now why don't I feel welcome?" Seifer muttered.

"You're not." Said Squall. "If you don't like it, leave. I'd prefer that."

"I'll bet." Seifer put the card in his pocket, and shrugged. Things hadn't turned out the way he expected, but that was nothing new. But he was back in Garden, and his dream wasn't dead yet.

Squall, Rinoa and Cid started walking back to the Garden, but the others took their time.

"Awww…" Selphie whined. "I didn't get to use my secret weapon!"

"Yeah, right. Like I'll be scared of a half pint with weedy arms…"

"WHAT?" Selphie screeched. "You take that back!"

"Or what?" Seifer's good mood had vanished. He'd been made to look a fool, and now the puny little Messenger Girl was threatening him? He flung his arms wide, closing his eyes. "Come on! Take your best shot!

"You heard him, Sefie." He heard Irvine's drawl. "Go for it."

"Right!"

Seifer waited, and felt something soft hit his chest, then bounce off. "Was that it?" He laughed. It didn't even hurt. "You think that can hurt me? ME?"

Then he heard the buzzing noise.

* * *

"Whoah." Irvine watched Seifer screaming and cursing in pain, surrounded by a large cloud of hornets. "That's gotta hurt."

"I don't care!" Selphie's hands were clenched into fists. "He deserved it!"

"Course he did, Sef." Irvine put a hand round her shoulder. "So why's he running in that direction, anyway?"

"He's going to dive in the lake, I expect." Said Quistis. "Normally, that would get rid of the hornets."

"Awww…" Selphie pouted.

"Dammit!" Zell started to shadow box in frustration, then stopped. "Hey… I heard the lake dried up a few days ago."

"That's right." Quistis nodded. "It did."

They watched Seifer sprinting across the field, and nobody spoke.

"Do you think we should tell him?" Quistis pondered.

Irvine pretended to consider that. "Nah." He pulled Selphie closer to him. "He'll soon figure it out."

* * *

Squall signed the last of the paperwork, and turned his attention to the datacard that had arrived from Esthar early this morning. Things had been quiet for the past few weeks, and looked to be continuing that way for a while. The governments of Esthar and Galbadia, the world superpowers of technology and industry respectively, were still mortal enemies, but nobody was interested in yet another war after Ultimecia had nearly destroyed the world. This had resulted in both nations launching endless propaganda, continual political rowing, and constant media bickering. There was still work for Seed mercenaries; still enough getting rid of monster populations and running security investigations to keep busy, but nothing serious or world shattering.

And since that meant a lot less paperwork on his desk, Commander Squall of Garden was content for things to stay that way for a little while longer. He'd even managed to fit half an hour of RT on his schedule several times a week, which was essential for his timekeeping. Headmaster Cid and Administrator Xu kept asking him what RT actually was, but he'd kept it to himself. It was less embarrassing that way.

Squall inserted the datacard into his terminal, looking through the data again. Then he heard rapid footsteps on the steps leading to his office, a sure sign that RT was here. It could happen at any time, without warning, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop it.

The footsteps were very close now. _Here it comes…_

"Squall!" Rinoa rushed in and pulled him out of his chair. "What's happening?"

_It's Rinoa Time._

"The usual." After checking nobody was looking, Squall responded with a hug and a kiss. His exuberant girlfriend might have destroyed his lone wolf status, but he still had his dignity.

For as long as Rinoa let him keep it, anyway.

Rinoa didn't seem to believe him. "You're not still thinking about Seifer?"

Squall shrugged. Actually, the ex-sorceress knight hadn't bothered anyone that much since yesterday, probably because the swelling hadn't gone down yet, and it was hard to be intimidating with a face covered in lumps. "Whatever."

"You don't want him to be a Seed?"

_How did you guess?_ "I agreed he could come back if he fought fair. He did. End of story."

"But you don't want him here?" Rinoa looked down. "People change, Squall! You can't blame him forever!"

_Watch me._ "Have you forgotten what he did?" Squall hissed. "How he tried to sacrifice you to Adel?"

"I know, but…" Rinoa swallowed nervously. "Ultimecia was controlling him. It wasn't his fault."

"Whatever." Squall didn't believe that for a second. He couldn't see Seifer taking orders against his will, even from a sorceress.

"Squall?" Rinoa asked.

Squall shrugged, changing the subject. "We've got a new mission. Esthar wants Seed security for a presidential speech."

Rinoa sighed, but let the matter drop for now. "Why does your father…"

"Laguna."

"Why does Laguna need extra security?" Rinoa corrected herself. "He's the president of Esthar. What about his soldiers?"

Squall tapped a key on his computer terminal. "There's evidence that a major terrorist group, the Adelists, will be planning an assassination. Laguna's agreed for the speech to be the bait to draw them out. If it works, it could finish the Adelists for good."

"But what if it doesn't work?"

"It'll work."

"So who's in the team?"

"Quistis and Zell. Selphie's too excitable, and Irvine's only option in a fight is to shoot people. Zell doesn't need a weapon, so he can mix with the crowd without attracting attention, and Quistis can take charge of the situation if things turn ugly."

"What about Seifer as well? You wanted to get him out of the Garden, right?"

"SEIFER?" Squall looked like he thought she'd gone insane. "In a covert mission?"

"Yes, if…" She whispered in his ear.

And Squall almost smiled.

* * *

"Has the information been sent?" The man asked.

"Yes Sir." The officer bowed. "The Adelists have been told that Seed will be present as security, and Esthar and Balamb Garden have been informed of the Adelist's plan to assassinate the president, but that the Adelist forces are less than half their actual size."

"Good. The terrorists are too unreliable. They must be disposed of."

"Sir?" The officer wondered. "What if the Adelists win?"

"Win?" The man laughed. "They can't. As the President of Esthar, Laguna Loire is a fool, but as a martyr, he will inspire the Estharian to slaughter the Adelists. And countless innocents by mistake, of course. And if Seed prove good enough to serve me, the Adelists are dead anyway."

The man tapped on a computer console. "But Seed won't win either. They are puppets, all of them, and I am the puppet master. They'll do my bidding in the new world. My new world. Ultimecia was a fool. A final battle, with an ultimate evil? Ridiculous. This time, Seed will see my enemies as evil, and destroy them for me whenever I wish. The weak shall die, and the strongest shall be mine to command, body and soul."

* * *

"So that's the situation. Any questions?" Squall asked. Quistis, Zell, and Seifer were sat in the office. Seifer felt uncomfortable, as Rinoa had been viciously smiling at him during the briefing.

"Good." Squall continued. "Collect your train tickets and equipment at reception."

"Train tickets?" Zell exclaimed. "What about the Ragnarok?"

"Covert mission, Zell." Said Rinoa. "Officially, Seed aren't involved."

"And one of our large military aircraft seen in Esthar might alert people that we're there." Squall muttered. "Zell, you'll be in the audience. Remember to cover up your facial tattoo. Quistis, you're in charge. Keep in contact with the surveillance team. They'll be watching the CCTV every second, and they'll alert you to anything suspicious."

"Surveillance team?" Said Seifer. "What surveillance team?"

Squall was smiling. "That's you."

Seifer's yell of outrage echoed deafeningly throughout Balamb garden, shocking a baby T-Rexaur in the Training Centre into becoming a vegetarian, until it was eaten by its parents for being weird.

* * *

Caryn left the Estharian pub where she worked, waiting outside for the tears to start. Another lifeless day was over, and nothing had changed.

She'd been a Seed cadet once, back in Trabia Garden. Then the missiles fell from the skies without warning, and her home was destroyed, killing almost everyone she knew, everything she cared for.

Her best friend Selphie had arrived later, trying to cheer her up. She'd transferred to Balamb Garden some weeks before, told everyone that Balamb was going to fight back. Many Trabia Cadets joined with Balamb Garden, which was now an airborne fortress thanks to the Centran technology that had originally built it. But Caryn hadn't, even when Selphie had pleaded with her to help, watched silently by that cold-hearted Commander named Squall. She was tired of fighting, tired of war. If so many trained Seeds could be killed so easily, what use was she?

Caryn left Trabia, hoping to forget. Selphie and her friends had won the war, and had started to rebuild Trabia, but Caryn hadn't gone back. How could she…

A hand clamped itself over her mouth as an arm encircled her waist, dragging her away. Unable to scream, she tried to bite her attackers fingers, earning her a punch to the head that blurred her vision. She was gagged and tied up before she knew what was happening, thrown next to a pile of rubbish in a deserted alleyway.

Three men were facing her. She'd heard rumours about women disappearing, police finding their bodies with stab wounds. She hadn't believed them then.

She believed them now. _Oh Hyne. This can't be happening. Please don't…_

"Reckon she's worth anything?" One of the men leered at her.

"Not much." The second spat, fingering a knife. "Bit of fun, that's all."

Caryn strained against her bonds, but it was useless. She wished she'd listened to Selphie. Wished she'd become a Seed, and kept herself strong. Then she could have fought. But she hadn't. She was helpless, useless. She always was.

The men reached for her, the knife caressing her skin. Caryn prayed for a miracle, knowing it wouldn't be granted.

But it was. Footsteps suddenly echoed in the stillness, and everything stopped.

The third man cursed. "Get rid of him."

A stranger appeared at the end of the alleyway, his skin deathly pale in the moonlight. He was wearing a plain black jumpsuit, with a sword slung over his back. He looked at the three men, but showed no sign of interest or concern.

Then he saw her, her face hidden in the shadows, and his face lit up. He rushed forward.

"Back off!" The man with the knife growled. The stranger ignored him, and looked at Caryn.

Caryn looked back, and gasped as she saw the stranger's eyes. The irises were not brown, or blue, or green, but jet black, windows to a dark, soulless void, dancing in madness. Eyes that nothing human could ever have.

Then the stranger looked away, clearly disappointed, and walked forward again, ignoring her completely.

_What the…_

The first two men stood in his way, knives in their hands. "Shouldn't have come here, freak!" The first growled, and lunged.

The stranger casually batted his arm aside, and punched him in the stomach. As the man dropped to his knees, the stranger kicked him in the neck, knocking him flat. The second yelled in anger, and rushed him, but the stranger sidestepped smoothly, twisting his attackers arm and gripping his head from the back. Caryn watched as the stranger smashed the man's head against the wall with bone shattering force, gouts of blood splashing the bricks.

Caryn looked at the first man to attack, unable to breathe, his throat crushed. He writhed one last time as he suffocated, then he stopped moving, and his body lay still.

The third man drew his sword, screaming in rage as he rushed forward. The stranger dropped the body he held, and reached behind his back for his sword as he turned to face his attacker.

Caryn blinked.

The attacker was suddenly shorter, and a bloodstained sword was in the stranger's hand, pointing away from him and slightly downwards.

Then a head landed next to Caryn, a look of surprise on its face, and she screamed. Her gag kept her silent as the stranger sheathed his sword, moving closer as she desperately inched backwards.

Then he walked past, not even looking in her direction.

When her heartbeat recovered, Caryn frantically rubbed her bonds against a broken bottle she'd found in the trash. The rope slowly tore, and she wriggled free, loosening her gag and gasping for air. She looked down the alleyway, and saw the stranger looking at the wall, his hand touching a poster with a gentle caress.

_Who is he? _Caryn hid back behind the rubbish in the alleyway. _What's he doing?_

She watched the stranger for several minutes, until he finally rushed away, his movement as quick and focused as when he'd first seen her. _He's found something…_ She ran to the poster. It was advertising the speech of the Estharian President tomorrow, with photos of everyone at the speech, including Laguna Loire, his advisors and his stepdaughter, Ellone. _Oh no…_

Caryn wondered what could happen to President Laguna. He had the Estharian army to protect him, and probably Seed as well. Nothing would happen to him, right?

Then she remembered the stranger. His eyes, the way he killed. Insane, inhuman. Someone like that could kill the President. Someone like that could kill anyone.

But what could she do?

She remembered thinking she was going to die, and wishing she had another chance. To be a Seed. To be strong. To make a difference.

_You were a Seed, once. Start acting like one._

She ran back to the bodies, searching them as skills long forgotten slowly came back to her. Some money, a sword, two knives, and a gun. She took everything but the sword. She'd never fired a gun before, but she figured you didn't need practice to point it and pull the trigger. Her best weapon was magic, so she'd find a few spells from somewhere.

She wondered what she was going to do. Nobody would believe her if she told them what happened, and the stranger would kill her if she interfered. But… If he was an assassin, why leave a witness? Killing her would have been easy. And the way he touched that poster had seemed strangely gentle…

Caryn shook her head. Nothing made sense, and she hadn't the time to figure it out. She left the alleyway, heading for where the Presidential speech would be held. She left her old life behind her, as dead as her attackers.

_You were right, Selphie. I'll be a Seed again, or I'll die trying…_

_**That speech is starting to look a little crowded, don't you think? Will the stranger with dark eyes join the Seeds or the terrorists, or will it be last one standing? Find out in Chapter Two, Life is a Blade, coming soon! Reviews would be great, and if anyone wants to guess who the stranger might be, go ahead!**_


	2. Life is a Blade

_**Yay! A review! Don't mean to be greedy or anything, but more would be nice, and I promise to personally respond to all of them. And if you're wondering why I haven't posted any personal details – work situation is a bit up in the air at the moment. Lots of perspective shifts in this chapter, but I think mass chaotic violence is best written that way.**_

_**Music to read this chapter to? I don't know, but maybe 'Breaking the Habit' by Linkin Park.**_

_**Disclaimer: I only own this story and the original characters in it, and nowt else. And that's true for all the chapters in this story.**_

Chapter 2: Life Is A Blade

"Maintain full combat readiness at all times. Make sure your Guardian Forces are ready for immediate use, but no summoning or area effect magic unless you're certain no civilians will be affected. Understood?"

Zell nodded, his facial tattoo hidden under flesh-coloured makeup, but Seifer scowled. "Why should I care? I won't see any of the action. I don't need to be here."

"The commander decided…" Quistis began.

"Squall wants me out of the way while he and Rinoa make out." Seifer slouched back in his seat. "I saw the info on the Adelists. Not enough weapons, training, or people. Not much action, and I won't see any of it! I won't become a Seed like this!"

"You won't become a Seed unless you follow orders!" Quistis shouted back. "You don't have to like it. Just do as you're told, or you're out of Garden for good!"

"Yes, Instructor ma'am!" Seifer did a sloppy salute.

Quistis scowled, but knew better than to push things. "Right. Seifer, to the surveillance post. Zell, leave here in fifteen minutes, and mingle with the crowd at the speech. Report everything you see that doesn't look right, even if it's just a gut feeling, and we'll check it out. I'll be on the observation post. Have you tested your comm devices?"

Both men nodded. The tiny devices were linked to the encoded wavelength of Esthar Intelligence, and invisible once fitted inside the ear.

"Good." Quistis checked her magic and GF one final time. "Time to go."

* * *

Caryn struggled her way through the crowd in the plaza. President Laguna had arrived late, as usual, but the speech was finally about to begin. The people around her were getting impatient, and she was worried. Where was the stranger? He shouldn't be too difficult to see…

A man bumped into her, and she gasped in pain as something underneath his Estharian robes jabbed into her. The man glared at Caryn, and looked about to come after her before the rush of people separated them.

_How rude._ Caryn moved along as she rubbed at her bruise. _And what was he carrying, anyway?_

* * *

Seifer looked at the technical equipment. "What am I meant to do with this?"

"Observe." An older man with steel-grey hair was sat in the chair a few desks away. "Report. Think."

"Great." Seifer leaned back. "Babysitting duties. Just great."

"Well, you can't expect to be invading cities every day, Mr Almasy." Said the older man, causing Seifer to sit up straight. "Yes, I do know who you are."

"How?" Said Seifer. "You're just a technician."

The tech smiled faintly. "When you invaded the Sorceress Memorial to free the Sorceress Adel, all available personnel were assigned defensive positions."

"Typical." Seifer twirled his gunblade. "You think a few techies would have stopped my army?"

"Perhaps not." The tech replied. "But we had our orders. And you have yours."

"Yeah, yeah." Seifer watched the crowd through the video cameras. "Boring as hell here, Quisty."

"Just keep an eye on the cameras." Quistis snapped. "Everything looks okay here. Zell?"

"No terrorists." Zell's voice came through her earpiece. "Just one prob… Ellone? You noticed the weirdo in black?"

"Yes, as soon as I arrived." Ellone's voice came through the comm. She'd also been issued with an earpiece. "Is he still staring at me?"

"Never stopped." Zell confirmed. "Best not tell Squall, Quisty. He'll go spare."

"Tell him what?"

"Ellone's got herself a stalker."

* * *

Ellone Loire, stepdaughter of President Laguna Loire of Esthar, and stepbrother of Squall Leonhart, the Commander of Balamb Garden, had never felt comfortable while in the public eye, and the man who'd been staring at her face ever since she arrived wasn't helping matters.

She looked back at him again, but he didn't react, and just kept staring. Either he wasn't aware she'd noticed him, or he just didn't care. His features were unique, sharply defined and harshly precise, giving him a strangely exotic, almost alien look.

It could be worse, she supposed. He was definitely cute.

And it wasn't just his face that was unusual. His physique was clinically exact, lean frame and tight muscles showing through his plain black jumpsuit, without a trace of fat anywhere on his body. Like a model on a strict calorie diet, but his muscular build, the purpose in his movements and the sword on his back clearly identified him as a soldier.

_Not bad. Not bad at all_ Ellone thought, then started to blush.

And to add the confusion, his skin was deathly pale in sharp contrast to his short black hair, like he hadn't seen the sun in years. What kind of soldier never went outdoors?

But the expression on his face was the strangest of all. It was awe, astonishment, like he couldn't believe she was there, afraid that the moment he turned away, she'd disappear. Ellone was flattered, but she didn't think she looked THAT attractive.

"Squall's gonna chop this pervert into little chunks." Zell's voice came through her earpiece.

"I don't think he's a pervert, Zell." Said Ellone. She wasn't an expert, but she was fairly sure it wasn't her face that a pervert would be staring at.

"Okay." Said Quistis. "Seifer, watch him, but nobody do anything to him unless he becomes a threat."

Her earpiece was silent. "Seifer? Are you listening to me?"

"THERE'S A CENTRAN SWORD ON HIS BACK!" Seifer's deafening yell rang in her ears, and Quistis yelled in pain.

"Seifer! Keep your voice down or I'll use you for T-Rex bait! He's a possible threat to the mission!"

"Great!" Seifer yelled. "Attack him, take his sword, and give it to me! Come on! Let's do it!"

"Be quiet, Seifer!" Quistis hissed. "Focus!"

"But Quisty, c'mon!" Seifer pleaded. "That's a Centran Sword!"

"So what?" Zell asked. "If it's that old, it won't be better than your gunblade."

"Don't you know anything, Chickenwuss? Centran Blades are from a metal that nobody can make anymore! They're sharper, lighter, and stronger than any other blade, and they can saw through solid rock without losing their edge! The last short sword sold at auction went for millions of Gil! And this one's full size!"

"MILLIONS?"

"Stop talking about the stupid sword!" Quistis could feel a headache coming on. "Remember the mission! Terrorists could be about to kill the President!"

There was silence for a few seconds, and Quistis allowed herself to relax slightly.

"So if he's a terrorist…" Seifer's voice came through the earpiece. "I get to keep the sword after we kill him, right?"

* * *

Caryn broke through the crowd, and saw the stranger in black, staring at the President's daughter, Ellone, on the stage. _What's he doing? He isn't even looking at the President…_

Then she remembered when the stranger saw her in the alleyway. How his face lit up, the way he rushed forward to get to her. Then his disappointment when he got close enough, and then ignoring her completely.

She looked at herself, her brown hair cut short ever since she'd left Trabia, her slender body. Then she looked at Ellone, at her short brown hair, slim frame…

_Oh crap._ The stranger didn't care about the President. He'd been looking for Ellone!

* * *

"Any sign of the Adelist markings?" Asked Quistis. The intelligence reports had notified them of the features the terrorists would be using to identify each other.

"We've checked everyone." One of the agents reported. "Nothing found."

_Something's wrong. I can feel it…_ Quistis watched the crowd, as the speech was about to begin. She was nervous, feeling the tension in the air. Intelligence was telling her the terrorists weren't there, but instinct told her she only had seconds to avert disaster. Which to trust?

She made a choice. "Intel has been compromised! The Adelists know we're here! All agents on full alert! NOW!"

* * *

Caryn moved closer to the stranger, slipped, and bumped into another man, brushing against him as she steadied herself, then stiffening in shock. The man cursed, shoving her roughly backwards as he moved away.

She didn't feel a thing as she fell. There'd been a machine gun, underneath the man's robes. She'd felt it.

And her bruise from earlier… Was that from a gun as well?

Caryn looked around. Most people were wearing plain Estharian robes. Any of them could be armed. Any of them could be about to kill President Laguna.

She had to stop them, but how? A Seed would have raised the alarm, but she was on her own, and no official would believe her quickly enough to help. She needed proof, but all she had was a fire spell, a pistol, and two knives. What made her think she could help?

_You're a Seed. You can do anything._ Caryn repeated the words to herself, and looked at the man hiding a machine gun. He was the key.

"Hey! Hi there everyone!" Laguna had begun his speech. She had to act now.

She cast the fire spell.

The man's robes burst into flames.

* * *

"Quisty! We got a firebug!" Said Seifer. "Some kid playing around with magic…"

"Ignore it!" Quistis commanded. "Just find the terrorists! I know they're here somewhere!"

* * *

Caryn watched the man slapping his robes, trying to put the fire out. It hadn't worked. He'd been surprised, but the attention was already beginning to die down. He wasn't shocked enough to blow his cover. Something more was needed.

"That man on fire!" She screamed. "HE'S GOT A GUN!"

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Quistis heard the shout, saw the man panic blindly, heard him curse.

Saw him pulling a machine gun from beneath his robes.

Quistis slammed the alarm button on the control panel in front of her. "Take cover! He's…" The man fired a burst at the stage, cutting off the rest of the sentence.

President Laguna Loire, ex-soldier of the Galbadian army, immediately ducked behind the rostrum when he saw the gun. Bullets flew past, and his guards returned fire. He turned to face Kiros and Ward, his advisors and old army buddies.

"Guess the speech needed a rewrite, huh?" Laguna laughed, but then saw Ellone. She was terrified, crouched down without cover on the other side of the platform, the dead body of a guard slumped beside her.

"Elle!"

* * *

Caryn saw people in all directions drawing guns, and tried to back away, but the crush of the panicking crowds wouldn't let her. The terrorist she'd set on fire noticed her, and snarled, swinging the machine gun in her direction.

She knew she was about to die, like so many of her friends already had, and got ready to meet them. At this range, he couldn't miss…

A blonde-haired man burst out of the crowds, slamming into the terrorist with a flying kick, knocking him flat. The machine gun flew into the air, but the blonde reached down and snapped the terrorist's neck before the firearm hit the ground.

"He's down, Quisty!" The blonde said, then his eyes widened as he looked at Caryn. "You're from Trabia Garden, right?"

She looked at him. The tattoo was missing, but the hair was just like… "Zell?"

"Yeah! You're…" A man with a sword rushed out of the crowd, and attacked. Zell. Zell ducked under the swing and launched a flurry of punches into his opponent's face, knocking him back. Caryn drew her pistol, but didn't know what to do.

Another terrorist appeared, this one with a sawn-off shotgun. Caryn aimed at his head, but she hesitated.

_Are you a killer, Caryn? Can you take another life?_

The man took aim at Zell. _Kill or be killed…_

"I can't…" Caryn whispered.

Someone fell against her back, shoving her forward. Her grip tightened by reflex, and the pistol went off.

The bullet punched through the terrorists forehead.

Zell crushed his opponent's skull, and saw the gunman collapse. "Nice shot!" He cheered, grabbing the shotgun. "New orders, Seed! Get some cover, and when you see anyone armed that isn't me or a soldier, shoot 'em!"

"I'm not a Seed." Caryn said to herself as she ran for cover. _I don't think…_

* * *

"I'm coming, Quisty!" Seifer yelled through the earpiece.

"Seifer!" Quistis yelled.

"Don't bother." Another man's voice replied. "He left his earpiece, took his gunblade, and left. He wasn't much use here anyway."

"Never mind that!" Quistis entered an access code into a keypad. "I'm activating the Cage!" The Cage was a series of thick metallic shields hidden in the ground, springing up to seal off the stage on all sides when activated, protecting from bullets, explosives, and magic. For security, it had to be activated from both the observation and surveillance posts.

"Authorization received."

* * *

The puppet master watched the alert on his terminal, and sighed. "The Adelists are letting Seed activate the Cage?" He tutted. "No, this won't do."

He clicked a button, activating a virus he'd written in fifteen minutes and transmitting it to the Estharian security network. "The Cage would be far too easy, Seed. You'll have to do better than that."

* * *

Nothing was happening. "Activate the Cage! NOW!" Quistis demanded.

"It's not responding!"

"What?"

"A virus has infected our systems. The Cage is offline!"

"Get it back! Remove the virus!"

"I can't! It's spreading too fast! I can't analyse the structure! I can hardly trace it!"

"Dammit!" Quistis looked at the crowds, more terrorists revealing themselves all the time. "There's too many of them! Every report said the Adelists were weak! How could they mount this operation?"

"They must have known we were watching them." The voice came back. "We've been set up."

"We need more soldiers!" The President's bodyguard were outnumbered, and under heavy fire. "Security agents! Anything!"

"Already alerted. Nearest group has an ETA of ten minutes."

"Laguna will be dead in ten minutes! We need reinforcements now!"

"I know." Silence, then "I'm sorry."

* * *

The leader of the Adelists laughed. Everything was going according to plan, his glorious plan… "Assemble a squad. Climb the stage on the far side."

"Sir?" One of his agents inquired. "The President's guards are still well protected by magic and armour. We won't be able to break through yet."

"I don't want you to kill the President. I want to break him first!" He smiled. "Now go!"

* * *

Quistis cast a series of Protect spells, shielding the President and as many soldiers as best she could, knowing that it probably wouldn't be enough. She could have summoned her Guardian Force, but the terrorists had heavy explosives and magic, and enough of them would be left alive to identify where the GF came from, and destroy the observation post she was in. It would be suicide.

But she might have to do it anyway.

"Zell!"

"What is it, Quisty?" She could hear him breathing heavily. "Bit busy here!"

"Can you summon your GF?"

"No can do. I didn't bring one for combat. You said this was intelligence work."

_Hynedammit…_ Quistis saw the weirdo in black, unharmed and looking around him with a blank expression. He hadn't even drawn his sword.

_Great. All those psycho stalkers out there that could have been useful in this situation, and ours is a wimp. Brilliant._

* * *

The Adelist leader watched his soldiers move into position. Perfect.

"You have your orders!" He shouted. "Break President Laguna Loire! Shatter his soul! Kill his daughter! KILL ELLONE LOIRE!"

* * *

Quistis heard the shout, cast a Fire spell at one of the terrorists climbing the stage, engulfing him in flames. She raised her hand to cast another, and a bullet grazed her arm. The spell lost, she ducked as a hail of bullets engulfed the observation post.

"Zell! Protect her!"

"I can't!" Zell responded. "She's too far away! I can't reach her!"

"You have to!" She shouted.

"I CAN'T!" Zell shouted back.

Quistis watched helplessly as some Estharian soldiers rushed forward to protect Ellone, only to be cut down as soon as they broke cover. Laguna was screaming Ellone's name.

_I'm sorry Squall. I'm sorry I couldn't save your sister. I tried…_

She saw Ellone shrink back in terror, knowing there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do.

_I really tried…_

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of movement.

Movement in black.

* * *

The terrorist sneered at Ellone, grabbing his submachine gun in his right hand. This helpless little bitch would be an easy kill. She wasn't even trying to escape.

He took aim. No trouble at all.

Then his right arm vanished, and what remained of his shoulder exploded in pain.

* * *

The man in the black jumpsuit appeared out of nowhere, his sword already drawn and hacking off the terrorist's arm in a single movement as he landed on the stage. The Centran blade twisted in the air, and the beginnings of a scream of pain abruptly cut off as the terrorist's head flew from his shoulders.

The man in black had changed completely. He'd looked confused, lost, but that had disappeared. His stare was now as determined as a blade, his eyes burning with cold, focused hatred.

Quistis was an elite Seed, a mercenary trained in the finest fighting schools to the highest standards in the world, but if she faced this man in a fight, she would have called for backup immediately.

This man wasn't a mercenary, a soldier, or even a terrorist. She could tell by his eyes. This man was a killer.

Three terrorist cyborgs rushed towards him, all armed with swords. Another Adelist, next to the stage, drew a gun. The man in black held his sword ready, seeming unconcerned.

One against four, especially when three of them were part machine, giving them enhanced strength and power, looked like a massacre.

And in a way, it was. One terrorist reached him just ahead of the others, and lunged. The man in black didn't block, slipping to one side as the sword went past. His Centran blade flashed once, cutting deep, leaving his enemy with half a throat.

As the gunman took aim, the other two attacked. The man in black leaned into the block as he parried both strikes, and kicked the dying cyborg off the stage, sending his body crashing into the gunman and knocking him out.

One against two.

"Why didn't you tell us you hired another agent?" Quistis demanded.

"He's not ours." The tech answered. "We've never seen him before."

_What?_ "Any matches in the security database?"

"Still checking. We need a few more seconds."

The man in black launched an endless flurry of rapid slashes coming from all directions, switching between both of his opponents in an apparently random pattern.

At Balamb Garden, Quistis had seen expert swordsmen from every country in the world training Seed cadets. She'd watched Squall train often, and sometimes Seifer as well, and she could recognise which country a fighting style came from. But she'd never seen anyone fight like the man in black. His style was unique.

One of the cyborgs made a mistake, and the Centran blade gutted him instantly.

"No match found. He doesn't have a record." The tech's voice buzzed in her ear.

"Other countries?"

"Already checked. There's no record of him, anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

The man in black killed the other cyborg effortlessly, and began to turn around. A shot rang out, and Quistis watched as if in slow motion as a bullet tore through the man's stomach, exploding out of his back and just missing Ellone.

Ellone screamed, as the man in black fell to his knees.

"Gutshot." Said the tech. "They're pure agony. He won't be getting up from that."

* * *

"No!" Ellone saw him fall. He'd been a hero, risking his life to save her, and she didn't even know his name. And now…

The man turned his head to look at her. She saw worry and concern written on his face, but not a trace of pain.

_But they shot him…_

He saw her, and his relief was obvious. But then he noticed something, and Ellone followed his gaze to see the bullet hole in the back of the stage, an inch from her head. She gulped.

The man's face instantly flooded with pure, overpowering rage. He'd looked scary before, but this was worse. Much worse. Ellone would have backed away, but she couldn't move.

The man reached for the submachine gun still lying on the stage, tearing the severed arm from it. He leapt up, firing wildly as he ran to the edge of the stage.

* * *

Quistis watched him run, his gunfire cutting down the terrorists nearest the stage, clearing a space.

"The pain he's in, he shouldn't even be standing up!" Said the tech. "Does he have a GF?"

"That shouldn't make a difference." Quistis replied. Junctioning a powerful GF might have deflected the bullet, but she'd seen it go through him. And no GF could have stopped that much pain.

"VAE VICTUS!" Roared the man in black, jumping off the stage. He came down in the midst of the terrorists, slashing one in the face as he landed on another. They both fell, but the man in black got up first, stamping down on his opponents neck. Bone snapped.

Men rushed at him from all sides, and he met them all with bullets and blade. Blood and body parts flew in the air, and terrorists died.

Quistis cast a Scan spell on him, and information rushed into her mind. The first thing she noticed was his magical ability, almost zero. The worst she'd ever seen, by far. His magic resistance was high, perhaps as a result of that. Intelligence, average. But the rest…

She gasped in amazement. Every physical attribute was completely off the scale. Strength, speed, reflexes, endurance, all almost superhuman. Only the most powerful GF and magic, junctioned together, could achieve this. Quistis looked for the Guardian Force he was using to boost his abilities, and found…

Nothing. It wasn't there. He wasn't junctioned. No GF, no magic, nothing. This was his natural state.

_Impossible!_

"Quisty! The Trabian Seed, her name's Caryn, and…" Zell's voice.

"Zell, there isn't time…"

"She's seen him before!"

"What?" Quistis stopped. "She knows who he is?"

"No, but she followed him here. And I don't think he's on our side…"

"Send her up." Quistis watched more terrorists switch targets from President Laguna and his bodyguards to the man in black, who threw away his empty submachine gun and grabbed another sword with his left hand, using it as quickly and skillfully as the Centran blade in his right. "Okay, the pressure's off. Zell, keep guarding the President, and prepare his group for evacuation. Tell the soldiers to keep firing, but NEVER to shoot anywhere near the man in black. If they hit him by accident, he could turn on us. Understood?"

"Gotcha."

Quistis watched the security camera as the girl ran forward, and opened up the security hatch to let her through, closing and locking it behind her.

"What do you know?" Quistis asked the dark haired girl as she climbed the steps.

"It was yesterday. Three men were about to kill me when he appeared."

"He rescued you?"

Caryn shook her head. "He didn't care about me. He killed them just because they got in his way! They were armed, and he killed two with his bare hands and cut the head off the third before I even saw him draw his sword!"

Quistis could believe that. The man's speed was incredible. "Why is he here?"

"Ellone. He saw her on a poster, and came here. He doesn't care about the President."

But why Ellone? Quistis couldn't find the answer. If he wanted her dead, why get involved? The terrorists would have killed her anyway. If it was a kidnapping, he could have easily escaped with her by now. But a man like that was a killer, not a kidnapper, and he'd ignored the President, who was worth far more as a hostage. Someone could have been interested in Ellone's power to send people into visions of the past, but that was a closely guarded secret. Did he know? And why was he stupid enough to stare at her for so long, when he was so well trained he could take on the Adelists almost single-handed? It didn't add up…

"No match found on the accent." The tech spoke through her earpiece

"Any idea what he said?"

"No. It sounded Latin, but we've no idea what it means."

"No idea? Aren't you the intelligence network?" Quistis demanded.

"Military intelligence, yes. For some reason, translation of dead languages wasn't high on our list of priorities… wait. The virus is spreading to the communications systems. There's only a few minutes left before we lose contact!"

"Connect me to Balamb Garden." _If we die here, he needs to know._ "Highest security, attention of Commander Leonhart."

* * *

The intercom buzzed. Squall would have swore, if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied after Rinoa had ambushed him.

The intercom buzzed again. Squall reluctantly released his sorceress girlfriend and answered it. "Xu, the order 'No Disturbances' means…"

"Sorry Sir, but there's a call from Quistis."

_Has something happened?_ "Put her on."

"Squall, this is Quistis." Her voice was oddly distorted. "A computer virus took the security Cage offline, and we're about to lose communications, so I'll make this quick. This mission was a setup from the beginning. The intelligence reports on the Adelists were fake. Their weaponry, numbers, and training were far better than we thought. They'd almost beaten us when a squad attacked Ellone…" The speakers flooded with static, and Squall frantically punched the intercom until the voice came back. "But then this man got involved, and killed them before they could hurt her. Squall, none of this makes sense. His fighting style, his sword, even his face… None of it is like anything I've ever seen before. He doesn't have magic or a GF, but he's stronger and faster than anything human, and he doesn't feel pain. And with a sword in his hand… he's almost as good as you, Squall."

Rinoa looked shocked, and Squall understood. When he'd beaten Seifer three times during the sorceress wars, finally settling their long time rivalry, he'd become a legend to every Seed cadet and most soldiers the world over, the undisputed master of the gunblade. If this stranger was close to Squall's level, then Quistis and Zell might not be able to stop him.

"He went berserk after that, and the terrorists are being slaughtered, but he could turn on us after they're dead. Seifer is on his way, but he won't get here in time to help. He's after Ellone, Squall, but I don't know why. We're getting her and Laguna out of here as soon as possible. If we don't make it…" The line went dead.

"We've lost the connection, Sir." Xu's voice announced. "Sir?"

Squall stood emotionless, Rinoa reached for him, about to say something, but Squall spoke first. "Xu, how many Seeds are ready for deployment?"

"Half a dozen, but…"

"Get them in the Ragnarok shuttle with Selphie and Irvine, to arrive in Esthar in twenty minutes. Squall out."

Squall took his gunblade, and was about to leave when Rinoa blocked the way. He hung his head, expecting an argument there wasn't time for. "I'm going…"

"Not without me." Her beautiful gaze transfixed him, and Squall felt his heart tighten in his chest. They were her friends too, but she'd be in danger…

_You love her, you don't control her. It's her choice._

He grabbed her hand, holding it tight. "Then let's go."

* * *

The harsh static in her earpiece told Quistis she'd been cut off. "Zell, all outside communication has ceased. Start the evacuation while he's distracted." She cast another spell, killing a terrorist with a lightning bolt.

The man in black was a whirlwind of death as he hacked through the Adelists, a pale demon stalking through a bloody slaughterhouse of mutilated corpses and gory body parts. He'd been shot more than once, and his body was a mass of bleeding gashes and stab wounds.

If his injuries bothered him, he'd yet to show it.

And then only a few Adelists remained, and everything went quiet. The man in black threw away his second sword, then noticed a dagger sticking out of his side. He pulled it out, and tossed it aside.

_He didn't even feel it._ Quistis thought. _This is bad._

Quistis reached for a rifle, loading a round.

"Getting shot hasn't stopped him…" Caryn was scared.

"They aimed for his body." Quistis fixed a telescopic sight. "I won't."

* * *

President Laguna moved for the exit, keeping his daughter close. "Who is he?"

"Dunno." Zell kept an eye on the man in black. "We'll deal with him once you're outta here."

"So why's he doing this?" Laguna's question went unanswered.

Ellone knew. The man in black was doing this for her. The fury in his face when he saw the bullet hole, the rage that consumed him when someone tried to hurt her.

But why her? She alone could send people into the past, but the past could never be changed, as she'd discovered when she tried to save her mother's life. But all he did was watch her, never asking her anything, never caring if he was killed protecting her – and how would her power help him then?

He wouldn't attack her friends. She knew Zell was worried, but the man who saved her life wouldn't do that.

Would he?

* * *

One of the Adelists, probably the leader, was screaming at the others to protect him. Quistis knew he didn't stand a chance.

The man in black moved towards the leader, Centran blade raised as terrorists rushed at him.

One reached him, and he made a casual slash without even looking at his attacker. The terrorist died.

More attacked, and met with the same. One slash for each, and all of them died.

The leader was running, but he was too late. The man in black was faster, knocking him down, cutting deep into both his legs before he could get up.

The leader got up slowly, shaking on his crippled legs. He wasn't getting away now. "Wait! Who are you? What do you want?"

The man in black drew back his sword.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" The leader screamed.

"Vae Victus." Said the man in black, and ran him through.

* * *

He wiped the blood off the blade, then sheathed it, and turned around.

Ellone met his eyes as she was about to leave. The face that she saw… It wasn't that of a killer. He reached out to her, looking like a little boy, confused and hurt, pleading with her to stay, not understanding why she had to leave.

A part of her didn't want to, but she had no choice. He was a killer covered in blood. He couldn't be trusted.

_I'm sorry_ she mouthed, and ran into the exit tunnel.

The man in black rushed after her, but Zell blocked his way.

"Hey man." He said, palms outward in a peaceful gesture. "Good job, but you can stop now. She's safe. Cool it, yeah?"

The man stopped. His face set cold.

He drew his sword.

* * *

Quistis looked through the rifle sight, setting the crosshairs between his eye and ear, lining up the shot to kill him instantly.

She felt sorry that it had to be this way. It wasn't much of a reward for saving Ellone, saving all their lives. But he wouldn't surrender, so he was too dangerous to leave alive. It was the only way.

But just as she pulled the trigger, the sword hilt moved into her sights.

The bullet blew a hole through the middle of his hand before ricocheting off the hilt, and the Centran blade fell to the floor. Quistis cast a Tornado spell, sending the sword flying away before the man could pick it up.

The man in black looked at her, and his eyes were filled with death.

_Dammit…_Quistis loaded another round into the rifle.

* * *

"Surrender, man." Zell tried again. "It's over."

The man in black tried to flex his fingers, looking at the hole in his hand as if wondering why it wouldn't work. He put his left hand over his right, forcing the paralysed fingers into his palm.

"Give up, and everything's okay. Medical attention, money, a medal, you'll get it all." Zell wondered if anything he said would get a reaction. "Don't throw your life away, yeah?"

"Life…" The man in black hissed. "Is a blade." His mutilated hand shot forward, punching Zell in the face, catching him by surprise. Then he turned, rolling backwards into the body of a terrorist, grabbing a grenade and pulling out the pin.

* * *

Quistis abandoned the rifle, casting another Tornado spell. Strong gusts of wind rose up, to catch the grenade as he threw it…

But they didn't. Quistis realised her mistake too late. He'd thrown it along the ground, not at her.

"Get down!" Quistis shouted as the grenade exploded, and the observation post collapsed. She threw herself over Caryn, casting a protect spell to shield them both as the roof and upper floors cracked open.

Then a tidal wave of rubble crashed down on her, and everything went black.

* * *

"Quistis!" Zell shouted, jumping up on his feet as the building collapsed, but all he could hear was static. He focused on the man in black. "You'll pay for that!"

The man snarled, and rushed to the attack.

Zell met him head on, blocking the first punch, which felt like it came from an iron bar, and dodging the second before slamming his head into the man's face. Zell heard the nose crack, but the man didn't even blink before punching him in the gut.

Zell launched a flurry of punches and kicks, forcing his opponent on the defensive. As a Seed with a junctioned GF to boost his power, it should have been an easy fight.

It wasn't. The man blocked, responding with a kick to the head so fast that Zell only just managed to dodge. He was well trained, Zell had to admit.

Zell broke through his guard, slamming an elbow in his chest, grinning as he heard the man's ribs shatter. _That'll…_

The man shoved Zell back before kicking him hard in the stomach. Zell rolled backwards, giving himself time to recover. _How much damage can this guy take, dammit!_

* * *

Ellone looked behind her, knowing something was wrong. The man in black was violent when he thought she was threatened, but what if he got confused, because she wasn't there?

"Elle!" Laguna pulled her along. "Keep going!"

"But…" The man in black wasn't thinking clearly. He might blame Quistis and Zell, thinking they'd kidnapped her, or hurt her. He might kill them. Because of her.

"Elle!"

"I'm going back!" She ran back to the tunnel. "I have to help them!"

"Elle!" Laguna ran after her, Kiros and Ward went after them, and the more experienced of the guards followed, knowing that with Laguna Loire, nothing _ever_ went to plan.

* * *

Zell kept fighting, but couldn't land a killing blow. Whatever Zell hit him with, the man in black just kept attacking, mindless and unstoppable. Zell backed off, trying to think. He needed something else.

Then he remembered his Limit techniques, a combination of physical aggression and psychological conditioning that only Seed were taught. And whoever this man was, he wasn't a Seed.

Zell took the defensive, continually backing away as he summoned his fury, and rage, concentrated and focused them into a single point of pure, unlimited speed and power. The undiluted essence of violence, raw energy waiting to be unleashed.

His opponent moved closer to attack again…

And Zell released his Limit.

The first punch took the man in black by surprise, knocking him back. The second landed an instant behind the first. The third was almost blocked, but hit anyway. The fourth knocked the air out of his lungs. The fifth was blocked, but the sixth shattered his arm a fraction of a second later.

The hits kept coming like hammer blows, too fast to see, too powerful to stop, systematically beating the man into a bloody pulp.

_Yeah!_ Zell struck one final blow that sent the man flying into the air, bones cracking as he slammed into a wall, then falling onto a pile of rubble.

Zell almost collapsed in exhaustion as his Limit ran out, watching the body of his opponent. It didn't move.

After watching for a while, Zell relaxed, walking slowly to the wreckage of the surveillance post, starting to search through the rubble. "Quisty! Quisty, are you there? Quis…"

A sharp blow hit him in the back, and he collapsed. Zell flipped himself over and kicked, but his leg was caught…

By the man in black. One arm hung limp and unmoving, one leg dragging along after him as he limped forward.

_What the hell?_

The man fell forward, plunging his fist into Zell's sternum. The Seed doubled up in pain, and the man in black pinned him down, holding him steady while raising a fist to crush Zell's skull.

_This is it…_

"STOP!" A voice screamed. The man's fist froze overhead, and he looked at where the voice came from. So did Zell.

Ellone was standing there, tears running down her cheeks. "Why are you doing this? This is wrong, don't you see?"

The man looked at her, then at Zell, then back at Ellone. He looked confused.

"He's not your enemy! He never was!" Ellone pleaded. "You don't need to kill anyone! Please, you have to understand! You have to stop this!"

The man glanced back and forth, like he couldn't understand where he was or what was happening. Zell hardly ever felt like a genius, but in comparison to this guy…

The man's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

"I keep telling you, Zell." A voice came from under the rubble. "ALWAYS ensure your opponents are dead or incapacitated before moving to the next objective." The remains of a door slid to one side, and Quistis emerged. "Don't you ever listen?"

"Quisty! You're okay!" Zell grabbed her in a hug, then released her when Quistis yelled in pain.

"My magic shielded us." Quistis reached down, and pulled Caryn out of the rubble. "He's highly resistant, but one of my Sleep spells finally affected him."

Laguna rushed in, followed by Kiros, Ward and his bodyguards. "Elle? You okay? What happened? What…" He looked at the unconscious body of the man in black. "Whoah. That's gotta hurt!"

"He didn't feel a thing." Said Quistis. "He never did. That's what worries me."

Estharian soldiers rushed in from the far end of the plaza, led by Seifer waving his gunblade. "Charge!" He yelled, then stopped as he looked around at the scene of battle. "It's over? All this action, and I missed out again? Dammit!"

"Seifer…"

Seifer saw the man in black. "Great! He's an enemy! Where's his sword?"

"Over there." Zell pointed, and Seifer rushed off.

"Who is he?" Quistis starting searching the man in black for identification. "And what did he want?"

"He was trying to protect me." Ellone spoke softly. "He thought you were going to attack me… I think."

"What?" Zell kicked the body. "He tried to kill me for that? He'd have to be mad…"

"That's enough, Zell." Warned Quistis. "He was mad, but he saved our lives. We owe him." Quistis shook her head. "No possessions or forms of ID… Wait." She reached inside his collar, pulling out a metal chain with a dog tag.

"What's his name?" Ellone asked.

"Just a nickname." Quistis read the tag. "Brute."

Laguna looked at the terrorist corpses littering the plaza, mostly mutilated and dismembered. "Well… it fits."

_**C'mon! Review, review, review! Please? Chapter Three – The Brute, coming soon! The plot thickens. (And so does lumpy custard)**_


	3. The Brute

_**Chapter Three is here! I'll try to speed up submissions, but life's a bit complicated at the moment. Not as much violence in this chapter, but more character and plot development. Hey, there's got to be quiet stuff sometimes!**_

_**In case anyone's wondering, in sword fighting a 'riposte' is a counterattack made immediately after a successful parry or block. And while the extra meaning of 'Vae Victus' as a battle cry is my invention, the basic translation is entirely accurate.**_

_**Thanks for the reviews, and keep reading, yeah?**_

Chapter 3: The Brute

When Squall arrived, the planning room was already crowded, and most of the seats were already taken. Laguna, the man who he refused to call his 'father', was with Ellone at the desk, Selphie and Irvine were together, as usual, and Zell, Quistis, and Seifer were in separate chairs. And Rinoa…

Was on one half of a couch, her long ebony hair flowing behind her, patting the empty seat and smiling sweetly.

_Damn._ It wasn't that Squall wouldn't _like_ sitting there, quite the reverse in fact, but there were problems with public affection… Selphie's endless giggling he could just about tolerate, but there was also Laguna, his mad loon of a dad who'd started planning the wedding the instant he learned they were going out, and Irvine, the Grade-A pervert who'd tried to 'encourage' his first date with Rinoa by marking a romantic spot with a porn magazine.

Rinoa had laughed, not kicking Squall in the balls like he'd expected. She'd shoved him off the platform later, but he was almost sure that was down to something else.

Squall realised everyone was still watching him, and probably reading his mind. He sat next to Rinoa, trying to ignore Irvine whistling the Wedding March.

"Hi…" A dark haired girl tentatively came in. "Am I late?"

"Caryn!" Selphie squealed, jumping out of her chair and choking the girl in the hugging frenzy that was her typical greeting. "You're okay! I missed you after Trabia! Where did you go?"

"I couldn't stay… I felt bad after…" Caryn looked uncomfortable. "Can I…"

"Yeah! Of course!" Selphie physically dragged her across the room. "Irvy, move!" A brief tussle ended with Irvine squashed against Selphie, but he didn't seem to mind that much.

"Now." Squall began. "Concerning Brute…"

"Just a sec, Squally!" Said Laguna. "Still missing…"

"Sorry, President Loire." A man with steel-grey hair and a crumpled uniform entered the room. "I had some last-minute issues with analysing the virus that took the Cage offline." He looked around. "I see everyone is already here."

"That's who we waited for?" Said Seifer. "A techy nerd who couldn't turn on that Cage thing?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand intelligence work, Seifer." The man replied. "Of course, given your Seed incompetence and your subsequent odd jobs, I wouldn't expect you to understand work."

Seifer's gunblade was half drawn when he found himself staring into the muzzle of a _Jackhammer_ machine pistol.

"Gunblades are powerful and versatile weapons, Mr Almasy, but no good for a fast draw." He held the pistol perfectly steady. "I'd advise a backup weapon."

Seifer slowly released his gunblade. The tech put away the pistol.

"The datacard with the mission details was sent by a General Estoc." Rinoa seemed amused. "But he wasn't involved in the mission… Unless that's you."

"Very perceptive, Ms Heartilly, and quite correct." He smiled. "General Estoc, head of the Estharian Intelligence Service, at your service. You've some of Caraway's talents, though thankfully not his workaholic nature."

"But Esthar's been isolated from the rest of the world since Adel." Squall pointed out. "You've only known him since the Sorceress War ended."

"Ah… only officially, Commander Leonhart. Under false identities as weapons manufacturers from Dollet and Balamb, we'd been in contact with him and others in the Galbadian Military for some years before that, supplying them with resources and technology, suitably disguised, of course. We hoped that by promoting their careers, it would produce a power base that could oppose the Dictator Vinzer Deling."

"And he was the best you could do?" Rinoa protested. "Why didn't you help someone who believed in peace? Who thought the nation of Timber should be free?"

"Initially, we did." Said Estoc. "But they all met with fatal 'accidents', courtesy of Deling. We needed those strong enough to defend themselves. We didn't have much choice."

"So you're like him." Rinoa's voice went flat. "And your family? Do you ever see them?"

"I'm not that greedy, Ms Heartilly." Estoc told her, and Rinoa looked surprised. "I knew I could only have one, career OR family. Caraway thought he could have both, and ended up with neither. He regained some of his career after the Sorceress War, but I don't know if he regrets his choice."

"He wouldn't. He's never cared about anything but power."

"Of course." Estoc nodded. "Now to business. The virus that took the Cage offline was very advanced, and truly original in its design. I'd venture to say the writer is a genius at hacking, and possibly more talented than any individual currently on record."

"Think you could trace him?" Irvine nudged Selphie.

"She couldn't." Estoc interrupted. "Because there's nothing to trace. All we can say is that he, or she, has no apparent links to the Adelist cause. Whether they actually wanted President Loire dead, or if they just interfered for their own amusement, we don't know. And until they attack again, we can't find out."

"C'mon!" Laguna was impatient. "Get on with it! And stop the formal stuff! First names!"

Squall hoped the General could be appointed the Balamb Garden contact for missions in Esthar. The General seemed competent and reliable, and someone he could talk to without feeling the urge to chop the phone in half, unlike when his father called.

"Understood, Laguna." Estoc seemed used to this. "The stranger is currently being kept sedated and under heavy armed guard in the Epsilon Military hospital. Drug therapy appears to have restored his sanity, according to brainwave scans. Whoever he is, his name isn't Brute, as we assumed."

"But that's his nickname, right?" Selphie piped up.

"Apparently not. The dog tags are at least seventy years old."

"They're not his?"

"Or he's got some damn good wrinkle cream." Said Irvine. "Could he be that old?"

"Right, cowboy." Seifer scoffed. "Pensioners don't fight like that."

"Humans don't fight like that. Not without a GF." Irvine shrugged. "But he did."

For once, Squall could admit that Irvine had a point. He'd have judged 'Brute' as only a few years older than himself, but that assumed Brute was human. A human couldn't be that powerful, not without a GF. A human couldn't take on GF equipped Seeds, the best in Garden, with his bare hands.

And most of all, humans felt pain. Brute didn't.

"What about a family heirloom?" Said Quistis. "Maybe he takes after the original owner. His grandfather, maybe?"

Squall nodded. "Makes sense." Quistis could always be relied upon for a straightforward answer. "And what he said before he killed? Can we translate that?"

"Vae Victus. It's a Latin phrase, meaning 'suffering to the conquered'." Quistis stated. "I spoke to a professor in Ancient Languages who used to teach in Garden, and he said it was a terrifying battle cry a century ago."

"Suffering? Doesn't sound that scary." Said Zell.

"It meant much more than that, Zell." Said Quistis. "It meant no quarter, no mercy, and no chance to surrender. Vae Victus meant total slaughter, a promise that once you killed the enemy, you'd kill their families, and their friends, and every man, woman and child they knew."

"That's terrible!" Selphie's face went white. "How could anyone…?"

"That's war, Messenger Girl." Seifer seemed unimpressed. "Don't get close to anyone weaker than you."

"Shut up, Lumpy!" Selphie shot back. Seifer's face flushed red.

"Enough!" Squall snapped. "General Estoc, play the video footage again, but focus on Brute."

Estoc pressed buttons on a remote, and a large monitor embedded in the wall flickered to life. The video began with Brute staring at Ellone, then the sound of Caryn screaming _he's got a gun!,_ then terrorists pulling guns out of their robes, firing at the stage and anyone who got in their way. Brute was looking around in all directions, clearly confused, but still mostly looking at Ellone.

"As you can see, he doesn't seem too concerned about being in the middle of a gunfight. He doesn't try to run away, or take cover, or attack any of the terrorists, even though one of them could shoot him at any moment. But after a while…" Estoc fast-forwarded the video, until a terrorist squad were almost on the stage. Then he paused. "This is where it gets interesting."

He pressed play, and the terrorist leader shouted _Kill his daughter!_ Brute immediately looked to the leader, then followed his gaze. As soon as he saw Ellone, Brute's face contorted in fury, and he became a blur of movement. _Kill Ellone Loire!_ Brute hit the crush of people like a battering ram, throwing them aside as he rushed for the stage, sword leaping into his hand.

An Adelist raised a submachine gun at Ellone. Brute jumped high into the air, clearing a distance that any Seed would need a GF to match. As he landed on the stage, he cut off the Adelist's arm, then his head an instant later. Three terrorists moved to confront him, and Brute met them head on.

Squall paid special attention to the fight, as he'd done every other time he'd watched it. Brute's attack was focused and highly aggressive, quickly overwhelming his opponents while keeping them off balance. It was a style he'd never seen before, or fought against.

Estoc stopped the video. "It's clear that he was trained by the best. Our records date back to when Esthar was founded, shortly after the collapse of the Centran Empire, but we cannot find any mention of any sword master who has ever trained students to fight like this. Furthermore, we have no record of this style, or any similar style, being used anywhere in the world. And given his young age, and his high degree of experience, it seems impossible that he invented this style himself."

"But he could have." Said Zell.

"That's practically impossible." Quistis told him.

"So's he." Said Irvine. "Maybe we should stretch things a little."

As much as Squall hated Irvine being an idiot, Irvine being right was even worse. "Zell, you asked him to surrender. Did he understand? Could he only speak Latin?"

"No way." Zell shook his head. "I told him not to throw his life away, and he said 'life is a blade'. No idea what he meant, though."

Squall looked at the edge of his gunblade, remembering the past. He knew what it meant. He understood perfectly.

"Squall?" Rinoa waved a hand in front of his face. "Calling Squall… Anyone there?"

"What?" Squall shook his head to clear it.

"Awww." Irvine laughed. "Is little Rinny getting jealous of a gunblade?" Squall wondered if killing Irvine could be filed under 'Justifiable Homicide'.

"Shut up, Irvine!" Rinoa snapped. "Squall, what were you thinking of?"

"Life as a blade." Squall put his gunblade down, remembering himself as the lone wolf of Garden, pushing everyone away from him, not letting anyone get close to him. Before Rinoa asked him to dance at the graduation ball and wouldn't take no for an answer. Before everything changed. "Life without distractions, feelings or emotions. Cold, sharp, unmarred. That's what it means."

"Like you." Said Zell.

"Like you _were_." Rinoa corrected quickly. "Right?"

_Are you sure about that?_ Squall didn't answer. He wasn't sure himself.

"But he saved Elle!" Laguna protested, unaware of the emotional conflict. "If he doesn't have feelings, why did he do that?"

For the first time ever, Squall was grateful for his father being able to speak. "Because he was ordered to."

"Someone wants to use me…" Ellone lowered her head. "Someone always does… I thought after Ultimecia, this would end…"

"Hey! We'll stop em, Sis!" Zell sprang up from his chair, starting to shadow box. "We won't let anyone hurt you! Right guys?"

"Right, but…" Quistis looked thoughtful. "I still don't accept that theory. He didn't try to kidnap Ellone, threaten her, or even talk to her. There has to be more to it."

"Like what?" Seifer yawned. "He's a mercenary. Simple."

"Really?" Squall scowled. "So why didn't you hire him when you attacked Balamb Garden, or Esthar?"

"How?" Said Seifer. "I didn't know him."

"Which is precisely the gaping hole in your argument, Seifer." Said Estoc. "Nobody knows him. He is an exceptionally skilled fighter, a master swordsman, has inhuman strength and speed, knows no fear, and feels no pain. Esthar, Galbadia, Seed, and even the Sorceress Ultimecia herself; we would all have paid any price to hire such a mercenary during the Sorceress War. And after his first battle, everyone would have recognised him."

"So he was undercover…" Seifer protested.

"No way, Lumpy. He stalked Ellone for fifteen minutes, massacred an army of terrorists, nearly killed two Seeds, and he did it all on CCTV." Irvine flipped his cowboy hat. "This guy ain't covert, and he sure as hell ain't smart. Kicking ass like that, he doesn't need to be."

"So who trained him originally?" Asked Quistis. "Esthar Special Forces use tech implants, and Balamb Garden Seeds use GF's. He didn't have either."

"And everyone from Trabia Garden uses magic." Said Selphie. "He can't."

"And Dollet doesn't have the resources." Said Estoc. "Which leaves…"

"Galbadia." Squall finished. Two contacts, and he didn't like either of them. Easiest first. "Open a channel to Headmaster Martine at Galbadia Garden."

Estoc nodded, and the monitor went blank. After a while it flicked on again, to show an older man with a harsh face and permanent scowl. "What is it, Commander Leonhart? I'm busy."

"I don't care." Squall's glower outdid Martine by a long way. "Have you been training soldiers with boosted strength and endurance, but without GF's, magic or tech implants?"

"You mean battle drugs?" Martine looked surprised. "They were abandoned years ago! Fine in theory, but a complete disaster in practice."

"Not drugs." Squall watched Martine closely, alert for any sign that he was lying. "Permanent boosting."

"No." Martine was suddenly interested, the conversation having turned to something he could use to his advantage. "How is that possible?"

Squall ignored him. Martine was a politician at heart, putting himself first, second, and third. "Do you know who this is?" Squall sent an image of Brute through the comm. "Have you ever trained him?"

Martine looked closely. "I've never seen him before. And all our students are Galbadian nationals, but he clearly isn't. Who is he?"

"That's classified. Squall out." The screen went black.

"He wasn't lying." Irvine knew Martine the most, having spent most of his life in Galbadia Garden before transferring to Balamb. "Besides, this is all too sudden for Martine. Not his style."

"That leaves General Caraway." Squall felt uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was confront Rinoa's father, and he knew she felt the same, but it had to be done. Facing Sorceress Adel would have been better. She might kill you on sight, but at least she didn't torture you first. "Rin, if you want to…"

"I'm not running from him." Rinoa glowered, intertwining her hand with his and leaning closer.

"Call him." Squall told General Estoc, who nodded.

It took several minutes of uncomfortable silence before a cold and grim grey-haired man appeared on the monitor. He sneered as he saw who was calling him. "Rinoa. When are you getting rid of this boy and coming home?"

"It stopped being home when mother died, Caraway. You made sure of that!" Rinoa snapped. "You only cared about your career, your precious reputation. I've got my own life, my own home. And Squall's more of a man than you'll ever be."

Squall kept a tight grip on his imagination. The situation was bad enough without him blushing.

"General Estoc." Caraway's eyes widened slightly. "Are you showing your true face for once?"

"I do whatever Esthar requires of me, General Caraway." Estoc remained expressionless. "But I would recommend you listen to Commander Leonhart. He has important military matters to discuss."

Caraway sneered. "Well? What is it?"

"A member of your special forces has gone rogue. A soldier with boosted strength, speed and agility to match a Seed with a junctioned GF, but without using GF's, magic, or tech. They went berserk during an attempted assassination of the President, killing terrorists and nearly killing Seeds. We need to know who he is and what he was doing."

"What are you on about, boy?" Said Caraway. "And why should I tell you any classified information? You side with your father. With Esthar! You think Galbadia should be at your beck and call?"

"He went rogue." Squall repeated. "That means he's out of your control. And he's currently in our control, which means your secrets are in our hands anyway. We can find out how he was trained, eventually." He leaned closer to the monitor. "He's very powerful, but he's insane, too. That means all the others you're training could go the same way. If there's enough of them, they could throw Galbadia into chaos. Or Esthar. They could attack anyone, without warning. Even Balamb Garden could be destroyed."

"Is that so?" The beginnings of a smile were on Caraway's lips. "That doesn't sound bad. What makes you mercenaries important to me? Why should I care if every Seed dies?"

"Rinoa's a Seed cadet." Squall told him. Caraway was shocked, and Squall knew he'd won this round. "She'll be going on her exam soon."

Caraway didn't say anything.

_First the stick, then the carrot._ "Just tell us if he's a Galbadian agent, General. Then we can discuss what you can, or can't, tell us."

They stared at each other, but they both knew who was going to win. "Send me the photo, but I'm not promising anything."

"Understood." Squall sent the images.

Caraway's eyes widened. "Who is this?"

"Do you know him?"

"Hardly." The General was surprised. "Contact lenses? Cosmetic surgery? Why would anyone remodel their face to look like this?"

"He didn't. That's his real face, and his natural eye colour. Do you know anything about him? At all?"

"No. Nothing at all." Squall knew that Caraway wasn't lying. "If he was one of ours, and he was skilled enough to match Seeds, then I'd know him. But I don't."

"But could someone be using your techniques without your knowledge?" Squall pressed. "Is it possible? Do you have a way to boost combat abilities without GF, magic, or tech?"

They locked wills again, staring and daring each other to break first.

Finally, Caraway gave in. "We don't have anything that advanced at present."

Squall believed that. "Fair enough. Goodbye, General Caraway." The monitor went blank.

"Not Galbadia." Quistis mused. "And not Garden. Who else?"

Squall couldn't think of anything either. "We don't know who he's working for, so leave it for now. But who is he?"

"He went mad when they tried to hurt you, Sis." Rinoa asked, using Ellone's nickname from the orphanage. "He'd have died to protect you. That wasn't just because of an order. Whoever Brute is, he must care about you. Does he remind you of anyone?"

"No." Ellone shook her head. "I've never seen anyone like him before. I don't know why I'm so important to him."

"Then we ask him. Let's go." The Seeds jumped to their feet as Squall stood up. "Wait. Zell, Quistis, you're staying here."

"What?" Zell shouted. "Come on, man! Just because he beat us?"

"Just because you're a wimp, Chicken-wuss." Seifer smirked.

"Shut up, Seifer!" Said Squall. "Zell, he's more likely to talk if you're not there. Brute sees both of you as enemies, so if he sees us with you, he'll think we're his enemies as well. We don't want that. And Sis" Ellone looked at him in surprise. "We need your help. Brute listens to you. Once we confirm he's safely secured, will you talk to him?" Ellone nodded.

"Me too!" Laguna almost vaulted over his desk.

"No. Laguna…"

"What?" Laguna had his 'disappointed' face. Rinoa and Selphie found it cute, but Squall just wanted to hit him. "Why not? It's important, right?"

_I know._ _That's why I don't want you there._ "Don't you have work to do? And where's Kiros and Ward?"

"They've got work, but I haven't! Let's go!" Said Laguna, and rushed out the room.

Squall groaned inwardly. Kiros and Ward might have been able to restrain Laguna from being completely stupid, and Kiros was a lot easier to talk to. Even a conversation with Ward made more sense than Laguna, and Ward was mute.

* * *

The Puppet Master watched the video footage of Brute slaughtering the Terrorists. "Impressive. Very impressive." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "But why so soon?" He grinned. "No matter. You'll be far more useful this way."

* * *

Brute was in a private room at the far end of the hospital. The security teams manning each checkpoint were highly meticulous, and the medical staff were quiet, efficient, and always moved out of the way. Until Squall and Rinoa turned down a narrow corridor, and found the way blocked by a doctor wearing a full surgical mask and reflective wrap-around sunglasses.

Squall gestured impatiently, but the doctor didn't move.

_Weird._ Squall didn't think doctors were supposed to adopt the sporty look at work. Then again, Seeds weren't supposed to have a cowboy fetish, and he'd signed Irvine's promotion to full Seed himself.

Squall was about to barge past when the doctor suddenly backed away, disappearing into a storage room with a low, elaborate bow. After leading the team that saved the world from the Sorceress Ultimecia, Squall was used to people fawning over him in public, but this was strange, not least because… He looked back, to see Ellone had just joined him, with Laguna, Selphie, Irvine and Seifer close behind.

"Who was that?" Ellone asked.

Squall checked the storage room, but it was empty, with the only other exit door already shut.

"What?" Selphie brushed past him.

"Nothing." He returned to his original route, hoping Rinoa wouldn't notice.

She did, of course. "What's wrong?"

"That doctor."

"Oh." Rinoa smirked, and took his arm. "Is Squally worried about Ellone?"

"What? No!" Rinoa raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Well…"

"He bowed when he saw her. He must be a little shy, but it's obvious he likes her."

"That's not it. There's something else." Squall tried to persuade himself, and failed.

"What's wrong with a young, talented doctor as a boyfriend? At least she won't worry that he won't come back from work alive." Even if Squall were deaf, he would have sensed the accusation in Rinoa's voice.

"I worry too." He whispered, and rushed ahead, Rinoa smiling as she followed.

Passing through a final checkpoint, they entered the room, which was empty apart from a man manacled to a bed, his face, hair and body all hidden from view.

"That looks kinky." Seifer remarked.

"It looks fake!" Squall rushed forward, uncovering the head to reveal the face of a middle-aged man. "Brute's escaped!" He shouted into his comm device. "Full alert!"

"He won't get far." Zell's voice came through the comm. "He'll stand out a mile with those weird eyes!"

_He bowed when he saw Ellone…_

"Sunglasses." Squall and Rinoa said together.

"He's got a doctor's coat, surgical mask and sunglasses!" Seifer spoke into the comm.

"Sighting confirmed on the fourth floor." An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Security team Delta moving to intercept."

"Guards won't stand a chance." Seifer drew his Hyperion gunblade.

Squall had to agree. "Seal all exits immediately." He spoke into the comm. "But don't confront him without Seed present. Repeat…"

"Halt! Stay where you…" The guard's voice cut off with smashing noises and screams of pain, then the line went dead.

"Ellone, stay here. Laguna, guard her. Everyone else, cover the exits. Move!" Squall ran out of the room and rushed down one end of the corridor, Selphie and Irvine taking the other and Seifer taking the lift. Squall drew his gunblade, firing at the window before smashing through it, then vaulting over the balcony and sliding down the fire escape.

He began reloading his gunblade when he landed, Rinoa following a few seconds after.

_Brute, for brute force. He'll go for the obvious._ "I'll take the main entrance, you take the near side."

"Be careful." Rinoa was worried, and Squall didn't blame her. "You saw him fight. He's good."

Squall impulsively hugged her tight. "I'm better." Then he left.

* * *

"He's broken out of the hospital already?" The Puppet Master tutted. "I'd hoped the great Commander Leonhart wouldn't be this careless. If he keeps this up, he won't even survive long enough to be of use to me. Still, perhaps he'll improve."

He turned to the officer standing in front of him. "Send an intelligent but expendable squad to retrieve two items in Esthar. Make sure they're fully armed and armoured. That way, a few will survive long enough to accomplish the mission."

"Two items, Sir?"

"Yes. One is essential, the other only useful. I'll send them the details once they're ready."

* * *

"Security Team Delta has been found." Squall heard the voice from his comm as he ran through the maze of glass-walled corridors.

"Fatalities?" Squall asked, then saw a man in a doctor's coat running two corridors down, moving too fast for anyone but a Seed.

_Or a Brute_ thought Squall, raising his gunblade and taking aim at Brute's head. At this range, with his GF junctioned, he couldn't miss.

But he waited. "Report. Fatalities?"

No reply, but he couldn't wait any longer. He began to squeeze the trigger…

"All Security Team Delta unconscious. No fatalities."

Squall lowered his gunblade as he fired, aiming for Brute's legs. The shot nicked his calf, drawing blood as Brute crashed to the floor. Squall fired again, but Brute was already rolling forward, not even looking in Squall's direction as he scrambled upright.

_Dammit!_ Squall kept firing, drawing blood again, but not doing enough damage to cripple the target. Brute disappeared out of sight, and Squall took a shortcut.

Seifer would have taken the headshot and killed Brute instantly, but Squall knew that being a mercenary meant he was a hired soldier, not a hired killer. He'd kill without hesitation in battle, but this wasn't battle, and there was no right or wrong. He wasn't even sure they were on opposite sides; Brute had saved Ellone and Laguna's lives, and saved Esthar from anarchy and civil war. He was escaping from prison, but he wasn't killing anyone in the process, and if Squall had been imprisoned by people he didn't know, he'd have done the same thing. There wasn't enough to justify killing him.

Squall reached the main entrance corridor as he heard running footsteps, and raised his gunblade ready.

Brute appeared, holding a military issue sabre in one hand. He'd ditched the doctor's coat, and was wearing the plain white shorts and T-shirt of a medical patient.

"He's at the main entrance." Squall spoke into the comm. Brute stopped a short distance from Squall, sabre held low and to one side in a deceptively casual stance. His face was all sudden angles and sharp features, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey. With his jet black eyes, his pupils were practically invisible, making it difficult to know exactly where he was looking.

"It's over." Squall kept his gunblade ready. "Surrender, and you won't be harmed. Once we know who you are, why you're here and what you were doing, you're free to go."

"Free? You won't free me, none of you!" Brute's accent was unfamiliar, but his words were clear, quick, and sharp. "I won't be used again!" His blade cut across, aiming for Squall's weapon arm.

Squall parried, and took a couple of steps back as he blocked the following strikes to his legs and body. Then he knocked the sabre aside as it swung for his shoulder, and countered with a lightning riposte and thrust that Brute struggled to block.

Now Brute stepped back, looking surprised as Squall pressed his attack. Squall understood; Brute hadn't expected anyone to be good enough to fight back.

Brute recovered fast, launched an overhead cut with a simultaneous kick to the knee. Squall blocked the first, stamped down the second, then thrust with his fingertips at a pressure point in Brute's right arm to deaden his weapon hand.

Brute dropped his sabre, but grabbed it with his left hand before it hit the floor and slashed to Squall's right knee, which he parried just in time before kicking Brute backwards.

Brute was as good with his left hand as he was with his right, but there was still something strange about his attacks, and Squall finally figured it out. Brute always targeted the legs, the arms, or the body; never the head, the neck, or the heart. All disabling strikes, but never fatal ones.

Brute wasn't trying to kill him.

_Fair enough._ Squall adjusted his tactics to match, and the fight continued. Now this was more of a sparring match than a fight to the death, Squall was almost enjoying himself. Brute was a better fighter than Seifer had been a few days ago, and this was Squall's first decent challenge in months.

Slowly, gradually, Squall pushed Brute back. Brute's every attack was still crisp and precise, fast and perfectly executed, but Squall was just that bit better. And Brute hadn't fully recovered from his injuries either, so prolonged fighting at peak levels was wearing him out. Brute couldn't keep going much longer, and Seed reinforcements would appear any minute.

Their blades crossed again, Squall's GF enhanced strength pushing against Brute's inhuman power.

Then Brute disengaged, and stepped out of range. Squall watched him.

"You have exceptional skill." Brute said flatly, seemingly unconcerned.

Squall watched his eyes. "I'm a Seed." There was no spark of recognition. Brute didn't know what a Seed was. _Interesting…_

"Why are we fighting?" Squall asked. "We both know you're not trying to kill me."

Brute didn't answer.

"Those you killed in the square were terrorists. Everyone wanted them dead, including us, so no crime there. You almost killed two Seeds, but you were insane at the time, and since you saved their lives as well, we can pardon you for that. You saved the President of Esthar, Ellone, and other innocent lives, which means you're on our side. You're an excellent fighter, you're used to working alone, and you always control your emotions." He paused. "I'd say you're a lot like me."

"I am nothing like you." Brute's voice was ice-cold as he shook his head. "This world is yours, not mine. And you are more than I could ever be." He suddenly turned, running up the stairs.

Squall didn't pursue him. The only exits were on ground level. Unless…

He ran outside. Brute dived through a first floor window, falling onto the bonnet of a car starting to drive off. Squall fired, but missed as Brute kicked through the windscreen, diving through the smashed window and knocking the driver unconscious.

Squall climbed into Laguna's car, firing another shot and catching Brute in the shoulder. Now Brute had a hostage, he couldn't risk a spell.

Brute sped off in a screech of tyres, taking the first bend before Squall rammed him off the road and into the safety barrier. Sparks flew off Brute's wing before he pushed back, forcing Squall to plough into a motorbike and shear through the rear of an ambulance before regaining control. Laguna's insistence on taking his armoured presidential car to the hospital was surprisingly paying off.

"This is Leonhart." Squall spoke into his comm. "Brute's about to leave the hospital. Seal off the barrier!"

"We can't." Quistis answered. "It's fully automated. But we've given you security clearance."

"Shouldn't leave us behind." Zell's voice. "You're lucky that ambulance was empty!"

Squall swerved left, taking what he hoped was a shortcut and picking up speed. A car pulled out ahead of him, he swerved past, and the locked barrier was straight ahead.

He accelerated…

And Brute smashed past, taking the lead.

_No!_ Squall floored the pedal, but the car was too heavy, the acceleration too slow. Brute held the hand of his unconscious hostage into the red beam of light shining from the barrier.

The light went green, and the barrier lifted.

Squall picked up speed, barely inches away from Brute…

Brute drove past the barrier, and thrust his sabre into the security light, smashing it.

Alarm sirens roared. Squall drove past the security light…

And the barrier smashed down on the bonnet, crushing the engine. His car shuddered to a halt, the airbag exploding in his face. After several desperate seconds beating it down, he leapt out of the car, gunblade raised to fire.

Brute was nowhere in sight.

_Dammit! _Squall kicked the door shut. And he'd thought this would be a quiet week…

* * *

When Squall rejoined the team, Seifer was smirking his head off. "Hey, Commander Puberty. Heard you couldn't stop an invalid from getting away, hey?"

"Congratulations, Seifer." Said Squall. "You always hated coming second, and from now on, you're no longer the second best swordsman known to Seed."

"What?"

"Brute is second best." Squall enjoyed the moment. "You come third."

"NO WAY!" Seifer drew his gunblade.

"Please!" The doctor Brute knocked out was clutching his head. "Don't shout!"

"Apologies, doctor." General Estoc bowed. "You were telling us of Brute's medical records, I believe?"

"Yeah!" Zell pounded his fists on his chair. "He was almost dying of injuries and blood loss, and a couple of days later he takes on a Squall in a swordfight? How'd that happen?"

"To start with, we couldn't give him a blood transfusion."

"What?" Laguna jumped up. "You said he needed one!"

"He did." Said the doctor. "But we couldn't match his blood type."

"One of the best hospitals in the world?" Selphie screeched. "And you can't match his blood?"

"We can match any human blood!" The doctor snapped. "We can't match his."

"He isn't human?" Ellone looked shocked. "But…"

"Analysis of his blood found high levels of proteins found only in monster blood." The doctor leafed through a clipboard filled with notes. "Hexadragons, for instance. We've found other proteins as well, types we've never seen before. The red and white cell counts are abnormally high, and even the cell structure is different." He shrugged. "For all we knew, a transfusion of normal human blood might have killed him. We couldn't take the risk unless his condition went critical, which it didn't. He made a very fast recovery on his own." The doctor tapped his clipboard. "Far too fast, in fact, for anyone human. If he weren't male, I'd think he was a sorceress. Once he was stable, we took blood samples for further testing. Doctor Odine was very interested…"

"Odine?" Squall drew his gunblade. "What the hell is that insane Frankenstein doing here?"

Odine had tried to seal Rinoa in suspended animation because she was a sorceress, resulting in Squall, Zell, and Quistis storming the lab, freeing Rinoa, and reducing the equipment to rubble. Squall would have cut Odine's head off as well, but the others persuaded him they needed the mad scientist in the fight against Ultimecia. They'd been right, but Squall promised himself that if he ever got another shot… or stab… or slice…

"You're thinking about killing Odine again, aren't you?" Rinoa's deep brown eyes were staring into his, reading his thoughts as she always could. "Squall, he's not a threat to me anymore."

"Whatever."

"As I was saying," The doctor said. "Odine would never be permitted to enter this hospital, or any other. We sent him a blood sample, hoping his insight would prove useful."

Squall's temper cooled. "And did it?"

"Yes." The doctor checked his notes. "The blood absorbs more oxygen than normal blood, and at a quicker rate. It also clots significantly faster, which probably aided the patient's recovery."

"Improved blood?" Quistis asked.

"In every way." The doctor nodded. "We haven't tested the patient's muscle fibres and nervous system, but if they've been altered the same way as his blood, I'd say his natural strength and speed could match that of a Seed with a strong GF junction." He sighed. "He might look human, but he's at least partially something else."

"But how?" Rinoa asked. "How did he do this to himself?"

"He didn't." Said Squall. "But someone else did. He was desperate to escape because he thought we were going to use him. He said he wouldn't be used _again_."

"So he was human, then he was changed into something else?" Estoc asked.

"Almost certainly." The doctor nodded.

"What is this, a horror flick?" Irvine laughed. "They changed him? How?"

"I remember a story about Centra." For the first time, Caryn spoke up. "In the last days of the Centran Empire, their armies were vastly outnumbered. To create more soldiers, they built a machine using forbidden biotechnology. A machine that turned men into monsters."

"Really?" Laguna seemed interested.

"Unlike Puberty's dad" Seifer snorted. "I'm a little old to believe in fairytales."

"It isn't entirely a fairytale." Said the doctor. "Centran science was incredibly advanced, especially in genetics and biotechnology."

"The Centrans are extinct, and biotechnology has been forbidden by all races and countries ever since." Said Quistis. "Even Vinzer Deling wasn't insane enough to break that law. But the technology…"

"Could still exist." Squall finished. "And someone's using it."

"Not for long!" Zell shouted. "Let's get 'em!"

The doctor's mobile rang, and he answered it. "Hello?"

"We need to find them, and shut them down." Said Squall. "Fast. Brute escaped while insane, and madmen don't cover their tracks. We follow his trail, it'll lead us to…"

"HE'S WHAT?" The Doctor screamed. "He can't be? Are you sure? Someone else as well? Who?" He listened. "Yes, I understand. I…" He stood in shock for several seconds, then hung up.

"What is it?" Quistis asked.

"I don't know how to put this. I…"

"Get on with it." Squall snarled.

The doctor flinched. "Well… we performed genetic tests on the patient, hoping to trace his racial group. Each race contains various genetic groups, you see, so we thought if we could identify…"

"Did you?" Squall cut in.

"Not at first. He didn't match any race on current record. But we dug deeper, and eventually found a match. He's…"

"WHAT?" Seifer yelled.

"He's Centran. Pureblood Centran."

"No way!" Selphie shouted.

"You're joking, right?" Laguna laughed. "They're extinct!"

"I'm not joking." Said the doctor. "And they're obviously far from extinct. The Centrans believed in the genetic purity and superiority of their race, and viewed mixed race children, such as half Centran and half any other race, as mongrels, fit only for slavery. Only those whose blood was pure were acknowledged as part of the Centran Empire."

"And he's a…" Ellone started.

"Yes. He's a pureblood. He doesn't have a genetic link to any other nationality in the world. His parents, his grandparents, his great-grandparents, and many more generations back; every one of them is, or was, Centran."

"They've been hiding?" Quistis couldn't believe it. "Over eighty years? All this time?"

"Hold it." Rinoa held up her hand for silence. "When you were talking on the phone, you said 'someone else as well'. What did you mean?"

"I…" The doctor paled. "Ah…"

"Talk." Squall brushed his hand against his gunblade. "Now."

"We found another match." Admitted the Doctor. "Not a pureblood, but still someone with some Centran genes. Very few, but a definite link."

"I don't believe this." Irvine shook his head. "Too much weirdness today. So who is it?"

"Can't you guess, cowboy?" Seifer smirked. "I can. I'll bet my gunblade I know."

"Who?" Irvine leaned forward.

"Who else?" Seifer pointed at Ellone. "It's Sis."

Ellone shrank back in panic. "No! That's impossible!"

"How would you know?" Said Seifer. "Your stepmom Raine adopted you, and then Laguna. You never knew who your birth parents were, did you?

"But I can't be!" Ellone was almost screaming. "I'm not a monster! I'm not!"

"I'm afraid he's right." Said the doctor. "We've checked it again and again. You're not half Centran, or even a quarter, but one of your ancestors must have been Centran. Probably a refugee that escaped when the Empire collapsed."

"Ellone…" Selphie went to comfort her, followed by Rinoa.

Irvine tapped his shotgun against his leg. "You think Brute knew, Squall?"

"I don't believe in coincidence." Squall drew his gunblade. "We've got a new mission. Brute's not an immediate threat, so he can wait. He wants to run away, let him. These Centrans are turning humans into monsters."

"We thought they were extinct." Quistis shook her head. "Everyone did."

"They should be." Squall told her. "And once we find them, they will be."

_**Or will they? Get ready for Chapter Four – C is for Centra, where disaster strikes Seed, Squall or Rinoa will have to face the ultimate test, and Brute is in serious danger – with his real name finally revealed, will it only be used to carve his gravestone? Don't miss it!**_


	4. Shadows of the Past

_**I've split what would have been Chapter 4 in half, and this is the first part. 'C is for Centra' will be Chapter 5. Reviews eagerly awaited, as always. Enjoy!**_

Chapter 4: Shadows of the Past

The dark haired man with a diagonal scar across his face had almost boarded the Ragnarok shuttle, when Caryn rushed out to him. "Sq… Umm, I mean, Commander Leonhart…"

"Yes." Squall turned to face her, his face impassive. "What is it?"

After several tries, Caryn finally managed to say, "I want to be a Seed."

Squall didn't respond. "You quit after Trabia was destroyed." He said finally.

"I know, but…" She coughed, and tried again. "Almost all my friends were dead, Sir. I lost hope. But I won't let you down again."

Squall just waited. Caryn felt her anger rising. _I know you'll say no! Just get on with it!_

"You really think you're good enough to be a Seed Cadet?" Squall asked.

Caryn felt her anger boil over. "What about them?" She pointed at Zell and Quistis, inside the shuttle, not caring that she was being stupid. "I found the Adelists, when they couldn't! And they're full Seeds!" Then she bypassed stupid, and jumped straight to suicidal, by pointing to Seifer "And he abandoned his post, and didn't do a damn thing…"

Her voice trailed off, as Seifer headed towards her, gunblade raised. She wondered how much being cut in half would hurt.

"Seifer!" Squall barked. "Back in the shuttle, or you're out of Garden. Now!"

Seifer snarled, but obeyed.

Squall took a folded letter out of his pocket, using a fire spell to melt a blob of sealing wax. He pressed his Griever ring, shaped like a lion, against the wax, and handed the sealed letter to her. "Fine. Give this to Headmaster Cid at Balamb Garden, and start training."

"I'm in?" Caryn couldn't believe it. "Why?"

But Squall had already entered the shuttle.

* * *

Irvine watched Selphie give Squall one of her 'attack hugs'. "You let her in Garden! I didn't think you would!"

"Why not?" Squall shrugged. "She was alone, armed only with one weak spell, a cheap pistol, and two rusty daggers. She identified a heavily armed terrorist group, blew their cover, and killed several of them. Full Seed exams aren't that difficult."

"She can't fight." Seifer objected.

"She can learn. That's good enough." Said Squall. "She's already cunning, and that's better."

"Commander Leonhart." The voice came over the cockpit speakers. "This is General Estoc. Brute's hostage has called in. He regained consciousness in his car, with all his cash and a hooded overcoat missing, and Brute long gone."

"Can you trace him?"

"Difficult, but maybe. We're advertising him on TV as an escaped mental patient, harmless unless provoked. Any confirmed sightings, we'll let you know. Estoc out."

"He could still be dangerous." Quistis warned.

"I don't think so." Said Squall. "Not now he's sane. He didn't try to kill me, even when he knew he was losing. He kills those he hates, but he doesn't hate Esthar, or Seed."

"So who's he hating now?" Irvine was cleaning his shotgun, bored with the conversation.

"Whoever made him like that." Squall said. "And himself, I think. He said that this world was mine, not his, and that I was more than he could ever be."

"So he knows you're the better fighter, huh?" Zell looked pleased.

"He didn't mean that, Zell." Squall looked thoughtful. "He meant something else…"

"But we can change him back, right?" Rinoa smiled. "We can figure out what happened! We can restore him, make him human!"

"No, we can't." Squall didn't look happy. "We don't know what was done to him."

"But we can find out!" Rinoa hadn't noticed. "Once we've studied the biotechnology…"

"Study it?" Squall looked incredulous. "As soon as we find that biotech, we destroy it all! It's too dangerous to do anything else!"

"But…" Rinoa was shocked. "What about Brute? If we don't change him back, he'll never be human again!"

"I can't do anything about that."

"He saved your sister, your father, and your friends, Squall! You have to help him!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Rinoa screamed in his face, and Squall, tough as he was, took a step back. "So sorry, that you can't be bothered to help him? He'll be a monster forever, and you're sorry?"

Irvine looked at Selphie, rolling his eyes. _Here we go again…_

"I'll help him the best I can. We'll look after him. At Garden…" Squall shut up, but it was too late. He'd already said too much.

"You want him to be a Seed?" Rinoa exploded. "That's it, isn't it? You want him to stay a monster! That way, he's a better mercenary! He can kill more people, earn more money for you and your precious Garden! You don't care about his feelings! If he's human, he's not useful, is he? That's all you care about! What you can use!"

"It's not like that!" Squall shouted back. "I want to help him, but as soon as we find the technology, it has to be destroyed!"

"It might not take long!" Rinoa protested. "If we kept it for a few days…"

"We can't keep it for an hour! Hynedammit, Rinoa! What if we switch it on by accident, and it changes US?" Squall slammed his fists against the wall. "And even if we can study it safely, someone could steal it, and take it somewhere we can't trace! This biotech could create an army of monsters, and we wouldn't be able to stop them! We have to destroy it, and this could be the only chance we'll get!"

"It's the only chance we'll get to save Brute! We can't give up on him!"

"Rinoa, I don't want this!" Squall took a deep breath. "Brute seems like a good guy. He saved Sis, Quistis, Zell, Laguna and others, and I'll always be grateful. I wish I could help him, but I can't put everyone at risk just because I owe him. Besides, he's clearly a fighter."

As soon as he heard the last sentence, Irvine was waving his arms frantically, shaking his head and mouthing NO, hoping to catch Squall's attention. Things were bad enough at this point, but if Squall would just shut up, they could still work things out. But the next thing Squall said would be incredibly stupid, and then…

"And as he's a fighter" Squall continued, unaware of Irvine. "He's put his life at risk before, for the greater good. He knows what's really important. He's aware of the risks. He'll understand."

Rinoa was silent. Squall looked confused, but not as much as he was going to be.

"I've trained as a fighter." Rinoa said finally, clenching her fists behind her back. "Should I understand?"

A look of dawning horror crept across Squall's face.

"Should I understand when someone turns me into a monster, and you just abandon me? Should I understand then, YOU BASTARD!" She punched Squall in the face, knocking him back against the wall.

_She's been taking lessons from Zell_ Irvine thought, but didn't say anything. Even he knew better than that.

Squall wiped the blood off his face. "Rin…"

Rinoa turned away, refusing to look at him.

"Fine." Squall sighed. "Selphie, you're the pilot. I'll plot the route. Irvine, report to Xu."

"If you want my advice, Squall, you'd better…"

"I don't, Kinneas! Now report!" Squall disappeared into the cockpit with Selphie. Rinoa sat down, blankly staring at nothing.

_Another Leonhart screwup. Great._ Irvine dialled Balamb Garden.

"This is Assistant Commander Xu."

"It's Irvine, reporting that we're flying to Centra to destroy some dangerous Centran biotech. Good enough?"

"No. Which Seeds are involved?"

"C'mon, Xu! It's us! You know that!"

"Please state all Seed personnel and their status for the records, Kinneas."

Irvine groaned. "Okay. Irvine, Selphie, Quistis, Zell, full Seeds. Rinoa, Seifer, cadet Seeds. Squall, complete asshole."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, then "Could you repeat that last part, Kinneas?"

"Nah. Can't be bothered." Irvine hung up.

* * *

That night, the voices in his head were screaming. The man gripped his sabre, striking and blocking endlessly in the derelict building, the exercise driving back the shadows in his head, calming the voices.

He saw them, in his mind's eye. Screaming at him. Calling him a freak, a monster, a demon. An image for every man, woman and child that he'd killed.

And there were millions of them.

He accepted what they called him. It was the truth, so it didn't bother him. He knew what he was.

Then the images faded, as they always did. But then he saw the girl, screaming at him.

_Please, you have to understand! You have to stop this!_

He stumbled, dropping the sabre as he fell. Then he saw Melissa, her stare proclaiming him guilty. _You hurt her. You terrified her._

_I'm sorry!_ His mind screamed. _I never meant for that to happen!_

_Did you mean to_ _protect her? By almost killing her friends?_

_I didn't think! I DIDN'T KNOW!_ He collapsed. _I was insane…_

But that was no excuse. Denial of reality was more addictive than any drug, and he had tasted it, and fallen.

But the girl as she left, mouthing she was sorry. Why? No human could ever feel sorry for anything they did to him. Being what he was, how could they?

But she had. Could he find her, and apologise?

No. He would not deny reality again, however tempting. The girl only felt compassion through ignorance. She didn't know what he was. He couldn't let her know. There'd been blood on him after killing her attackers, and she'd been scared of him _then_. So if she knew what he really was, all the terrible things he'd done…

She'd go insane. He would never allow that.

And she had protection. The scarred man, with strength and skill to match his own. When they'd fought, neither had tried to kill the other. The scarred man had proved his honour. He was worthy.

But naïve, for thinking them alike. The scarred man was human, when he never was, and never could be.

So what now? The base was waiting for him, but there was nothing there. Now the world had no place for him, his purpose was done.

He remembered travelling for days through forests and wilderness, never seeing another human presence. Perfect. He would exist there, and wait for death to find him. If combat or sickness refused to claim him, age eventually would. He would die there, with his remains consumed by the animals.

And with no trace of him, it would finally end.

_At last._

Gripping his sabre, he turned to leave the building, and something felt wrong. Very wrong. As a killer born, bred, and trained, he trusted his instincts.

He heard a rattle, and glanced in its direction through a broken window.

A dazzling burst of light exploded in his eyes, blinding him. He could hear people rushing in. He blinked desperately, but could only see faint, distorted shapes.

_Anything defective is a weakness._ _Abandon all weakness._ Words he knew well.

He shut his eyes, and listened. Heavy breathing was fast approaching on his right, eager for a kill.

He obliged, stepping forward as he swept his sabre diagonally upwards. He felt the tension of cleaving through flesh, and heard a scream, fading to a choked gurgle as his blade reached neck height.

There was a gasp to his left. He moved quickly, stabbing just above the origin of the noise. A hiss, and hot blood sprayed on his weapon hand and face. A thud as a body collapsed on the dirt floor.

He kept moving, knowing it was his only chance.

The hiss of a sword being drawn, just ahead of him. Most attacks came to the body. He guarded on a slant, to cover the greatest area…

The block connected. He pushed his sabre forward, and punched where he heard breathing, hitting a face. The blade he was blocking faltered, and he lunged, grabbed the weapon arm and taking the sword as the body collapsed.

Something blunt hit the back of his head, and he stumbled forward before stabbing behind. It connected with a scream of pain, but no body collapsed. What felt like a club hit his chest, and there were sounds of breathing all around him. He whirled, blades cleaving flesh, but there were too many. Weapons slammed into him from all directions, and his balance failed him.

_We created you._ As he fell, he saw his teacher. _Why did you betray us?_

_You created a perfect killer._ His muzzy thoughts responded, as darkness claimed him. _What did you expect?_

_**So Brute was responsible for the deaths of millions – anyone think that's excessive? Who were they, and why did he do it? And who is Melissa? (She's not in the game, so don't bother looking.) Stay tuned!**_


	5. C is for Centra

_**Chapter 5 now up! Many thanks to sion0083, Arkv01, SJsilver, Dee, and Josh, my reviewers. (Everyone else reading, review if you want to be listed.) Since I've had no response on whether longer or shorter chapters are better, after long deliberation I've decided that when to end a chapter should be chosen by an exhaustive process called 'Whenever I Feel Like It'. Enough talk, here we go!**_

'_Anything defective is a weakness. Abandon all weakness.' This was a central belief of the Centran Military, obeyed instinctively by every soldier of their Empire. As a result, when any Centran soldier was too injured to fight, or taken hostage, they were either left to die or killed by their own comrades. This, combined with the horrific slaughter that followed their battle cry of 'Vae Victus', made the Centran Army more savage and terrifying than anything the world has ever known. _– _**Extract from**_ '_**A Time of Darkness: The History of the Centran Empire' by Professor Beltaine.**_

Chapter 5: C is for Centra

"Centra Ruins coming up!" Sephie reported from the cockpit, breaking the hours of silence.

"Change course." Said Squall. "Head for the coastline."

"What?" Zell sprang to his feet. "What about the Ruins? That was Centra's capital city, man!"

"Zell, archaeologists have been over every inch of that site dozens of times." Quistis pointed out. "If there was any biotech anywhere near that site, it would have been found long before now. Brute must have come from somewhere else."

"The Centrans weren't stupid." Said Squall. "They ruled the world for centuries, before the Lunar Cry destroyed their capital city and triggered the rebellion. They would have hidden their biotech so it would never be found."

"If it can't be found, why are we here?" Said Seifer, who seemed quite calm, for once.

"Because madmen leave trails. We'll start by…"

"The closest port to the Estharian continent is a small fishing village on the northeast coast." Rinoa stated, her voice cold. "Brute must have stolen a boat. It's the only way off Centra without being seen."

"Yeah." Squall nodded, and actually smiled. "That's where we start. Good thinking, Rin."

Rinoa wasn't smiling back. "Commander." She turned away.

Irvine wasn't impressed. Everyone had always lectured him on how he had to keep his mind focused on the mission instead of a girl, but he'd never been this bad. And Squall was supposed to be the professional type.

He'd talk to Squall later. As the resident expert on women, Irvine was sure he'd be able to help.

* * *

"A small boat was stolen almost two weeks ago." Quistis announced. The village inhabitants were typical of most isolated settlements, being highly suspicious of strangers, but willing to talk about anything once you starting handing out money. "Nobody saw who took it."

"That's how Brute got to Esthar." Zell was shadow boxing. "But where'd he come from to get here?"

"He must have left a trail." Quistis pointed at the thick forests around the village. "It shouldn't be too difficult to find."

Rinoa, the third member of the group, said nothing. Squall, Seifer, Irvine and Selphie had stayed behind with the Ragnarok shuttle, while the three of them followed Brute's trail.

Rinoa understood what Brute was going through. He was the same as her, in a way, both running away from everything they knew, rather than become something they never wanted to be. She'd endured a childhood with her mother dead, her father uncaring, the constant, endless pressure to be a perfect daughter, and the long line of faceless people only seeing her as a commodity, not a person. Just like Caraway, the man who should have been her father, but who couldn't even be bothered to care.

But Brute had suffered more. His own family were either dead, or responsible for twisting and corrupting his body and mind. Zell and Quistis were surprised Brute returned to sanity so quickly. Rinoa was just surprised he'd had any sanity left to return to.

And even when Brute thought Squall was going to use him like everyone else, he still hadn't tried to kill him. He must have been desperate to break free of a nightmare that nobody should ever have to face, but he still respected life, despite everything life had done to him. Rinoa knew lots of people, Seifer especially, who always took the easy option in life, always blaming their upbringing, their surroundings, anything and everything but themselves. Brute never would. Nor would Squall…

Squall. Her thoughts turned cold. How could he say that? Rinoa wasn't stupid, she knew it might be impossible to make Brute human again, or that the technology might be too dangerous for anyone to use.

But we can't just give up hope! We can't give up on him! There's still a chance…

But Squall didn't think that way, obviously. He didn't even consider it. Cold and efficient, locking away his emotions, just like when she'd first met him.

I thought he'd changed…

And Squall had, some of the time. He could be sweet, and caring, he could even show his feelings in public, sort of, but then every so often, something would happen, and he'd change. He'd turn cold, pushing her away all over again. They always made up a few days later, when she'd always forgive him, and he'd always swear it would never happen again.

But sooner or later, it always did. She didn't understand why, or what he was feeling that made him act this way. But whatever she did, it kept happening. And every time it did, she felt like a part of her was dying.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It had begun just like she'd always dreamed. She was a sorceress, he was her knight. They'd beaten Ultimecia, they'd saved the world, and they were in love. Fairytales were supposed to be happy ever after, right?

But life wasn't like that.

She loved him, and she didn't want to give up on him, but… Things couldn't stay like this forever.

She blinked repeatedly to stop the tears, then noticed Quistis and Zell were staring at her. She looked away, and saw a flock of gore crows, hovering not far from the forest boundaries. "Look!"

Zell squinted. "What? Birds?"

Quistis sighed. "They're gore crows, Zell. Scavengers that feed on carrion. There must be something over there."

As they approached via a forest trail, Rinoa almost gagged. "What's that stench? It smells like…"

She saw a gap by the side of the trail, enough to allow a single person through, the trees and bushes smashed aside by brute force. Dead monsters lay inside the gap, their bodies gutted and sliced apart, with gore crows feeding off the rotting remains.

"That's his trail." Quistis looked at the carnage. "And it looks like he went in a straight line. Once we confirm that, we can find his starting location."

"Must have been pissed off." Zell examined the carnage. "Nobody fights like this unless they're mad about something."

Rinoa's senses, enhanced by her sorceress powers, detected the shadows of past emotions. "This isn't right." She said softly.

"Nah." Zell argued. "He was angry all right."

"Not that!" Rinoa snapped. "What made him run away, Zell? He wasn't scared! When you're like this, you run towards whatever makes you angry! So why didn't he?"

"Good point." Quistis nodded. "Ever since the Adelist attack, nothing makes sense any more. He was furious, but he was running away from the people he hated, who did this to him. The only way that makes sense is if…"

"What?" Asked Rinoa.

"He's only running away from his memories. In which case… He's already killed everyone there."

* * *

Seifer left the shuttle with the excuse of needing to do some training. He felt insulted by how quickly Squall had agreed, but for once his ego was in second place. He moved to the back of the shuttle, checking nobody was watching. For this training session, an audience was the last thing he wanted.

He reached for his gunblade, unfastened it from his belt, and dropped it on the ground. Then he reached inside his trenchcoat, and took out the flawless Centran katana.

Seifer swept it back and forth, admiring the blue halo of the metal as it cut through the air. No training blade or kiddie weapon could ever match this. This was a real blade, for a real warrior. A weapon for a hero, a legend. The kind of weapon he'd always deserved.

If he'd had one of these when he'd joined Garden, he wouldn't have bothered with a gunblade. A Centran blade was perfection, slicing through thick steel, solid rock, and the toughest monster hides without a scratch on its perfect, glittering surface. The only Centran sword on public display was in the Deling City museum, taken from Dictator Vinzer Deling's private collection after he died. It was said to be the best sword in the world, and ever since he'd seen it, Seifer had always dreamed of owning a weapon as good.

He cut and parried, the sword impossibly light and graceful. Every inch of it, from crystalline hilt to the tip of the chiselled point, was immaculate, perfect in every way. No, this blade wasn't as good. It was _better_, by far. And it was his.

Well, Brute didn't want it. Everyone said the Centran had regained his sanity, but Seifer figured that anyone who ran away and left something like this behind was still mad as a hatter. Not that Seifer minded. If Brute was never seen again, all the better.

Even the red designs on the hilt looked good, if mysterious. Each side was different, and they looked like that really old writing found in ruins. Runes, that was it. He idly wondered what they meant, not that he really cared.

They looked good, that was the important thing.

* * *

Squall could always sense when doom approached. In this case, it was also known as Irvine Kinneas.

"Hey, buddy." The cowboy strolled into the cockpit. "Got a minute?"

"No."

"Tough." Irvine sat on the ignition controls, which would have sent the shuttle ploughing into the ground if Squall hadn't put the safety on.

Not that Squall would have minded much. Igniting the engines would have wrecked the Ragnarok beyond repair and stranded them on Centra, but it also meant Seifer would be a small charcoal briquette, since he was currently standing behind the engines.

"Cause you gotta listen." Irvine continued. "You and Rinoa, man, it's all screwed up. And this ain't the first time, not by a long shot."

"We had an argument." Squall glared, but Irvine was used to it by now. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"First, it was yet another argument. Second, you already feel guilty. If you didn't, we'd all make Rin dump you and find someone who can actually smile."

Squall scowled, knowing Irvine was right but not willing to admit it.

"See? You can't keep doing this, Squall. Big argument, big scene screaming at each other, apart for days, then suddenly back together and happy, like nothing ever happened. And then everything's fine, until it happens again. It happens too often, it happens too much, and we're all sick of it." Irvine shook his head. "But not as much as Rinoa is. Happy one day, then hellish the next… She keeps giving you another chance, but girls don't do that forever, even the really fine ones like her. One day, not far off, she'll leave you for good."

Squall suddenly felt cold, as if his heart stopped beating. _No, she wouldn't do that._ He knew he was difficult to live with, he always had been, but… She loved him, and he loved her, right? _Even if I hardly ever say it._ They argued, but they'd argued before… _Too often._ She wouldn't leave over something this stupid. _Would she?_

"At the victory party after we kicked Ultimecia's ass, I thought you two were the real deal. She did too, I guess." Irvine continued. "But now you're pushing her away again. She don't deserve that. Either stop fighting and get serious, or get outta town."

"Get serious?" Squall snarled. "What would you know? Selphie almost beat you to death in the cafeteria after she caught you flirting! Again!"

"True." Irvine shrugged, then smirked. "But remember what me and her got up to in the lift ten minutes later?"

"Don't remind me…" Squall visibly shuddered. "You're lucky I burnt all the security tapes. If they got on the Internet…"

"Hey, can I help it if I'm gorgeous?" Irvine flashed a wide smile that most women found attractive, but made Squall want to bash his face in with a hammer. "But that's what I'm saying. Sefie and me, our spats are never serious. Serious is what comes after, and a few sparks just makes it all the hotter." His grin faded. "But it's not like that with Rin, or with you. Your fights are serious, to both of you, and getting worse. It's time to shoot or holster, man."

"What?"

"Shoot or holster." Irvine watched Squall's blank expression. "Fish or cut bait?" He sighed. "Stay with her, or dump her. Don't keep switching off and on."

"It's not that simple." Said Squall. "You don't understand."

"Whoah there." Irvine held his hands up in surrender. "If you've somehow figured you're doing what's best for her, then stop right there. Women always hate that. It's like they've got minds of their own."

There was a bump on the other side of the cockpit door, probably from a short, furious brunette addicted to coffee.

"Anyway, I've said my piece." Irvine opened the cockpit door. "And if you're gonna break up…"

"We won't."

"Best do it quick, that's what I always do. If I meet a girl, and there's no real chemistry, no big attraction, there's no point in hanging around." He turned to leave. "I just get out of her bed and leave, before she even wakes up."

"PERVERT!" Screamed Selphie, bashing Irvine in the face with her nunchukas before she flounced off.

Irvine yelled in pain, but chased after her "Sefie! That's the past! I've changed!"

"You sleep with girls you don't even like! Pervert!"

"Hey darlin', there's no point in being cruel to them… AHH!" Irvine collapsed as Selphie kicked him in the shins.

Squall closed the door. As deranged as Irvine was, he had a point. But Squall also had responsibilities. If they were just to himself, he'd abandon them to be with Rinoa, but…

Love, and obligations. The two halves of his being, pulling him in two different directions, and he couldn't escape.

And if he didn't break free, he wouldn't be the only one falling apart.

"Squall?" Quistis said through the comm. "We've found the trail, and it appears to lead straight to the Alucard Plains. We're coming back to the Ragnarok."

"Okay." Squall loaded a map onto the visual display. "No points of interest or landmarks found. Who owns the land?"

"Nobody." Said Quistis. "Nobody wants it. Barren soil, impossible to raise livestock, no valuable animals or monsters to hunt. No Centran artefacts or settlements have ever been found in the area."

"Then that's where they're hiding." Said Squall. "We'll take off as soon as you're on board."

* * *

The base Artificial Intelligence monitored the shuttle hovering above, but followed its programming, and did not react. Concealment remained its highest priority, until the base was either detected or under serious attack.

The shuttle was using scanning technology that was unfamiliar, but advanced enough to be a threat. The AI ran subroutines to simulate the probable attacks of the shuttle inhabitants, using the results to calculate effective defensive measures. Every second, more strategies and counterattacks were devised, improved and stored for use.

The shuttle still hovered, but the AI had no capacity for impatience or apprehension. It simply waited.

* * *

"Brute's skin tone showed he must have lived underground for a considerable time, if not permanently." Quistis repeated." It has to be there, Zell. Keep looking."

Zell, the machine specialist of the group, was quiet for once as he watched the scanner display.

"Useless as ever, Chicken Wuss." Seifer scowled as he leaned forward. "It's blurred."

"That's not my fault, Lumpy!" Zell protested. "It's local interference! You couldn't get it half this good!"

Quistis watched the two men continue bickering, but everyone else ignored them. She'd tried to get Squall to impose some discipline before, but he'd just said 'Whatever', and returned to his brooding, which meant he and Rinoa were trying to glance at each other whenever they thought the other wasn't looking.

Sometimes, Quistis felt like she was the only sane one in the group. "What interference?"

"Something the scanner won't penetrate." Selphie jumped to the scanning console and started pressing buttons.

Quistis watched, trying to suppress her feeling that something was about to explode, the way she always felt whenever Selphie messed with something.

"Could be some weird rock, or metal ore…" Selphie flicked a switch, and the display switched colours.

A large yellowish rectangle was in the centre. "Or not."

Squall stopped acting like a hormonal teenager, and was quickly alert. "Analysis?"

Zell examined the display. "It's a metal alloy, too dense for the scanners to get through. Can't tell what it's made of."

"That doesn't matter." Squall's tone allowed no discussion. "We just need to get inside."

"Man, you know how deep that is?" Zell exclaimed. "We can't dig that far with a few shovels! We'll need machines!"

"We don't have time."

"Are you crazy? We can't…"

"You two left your brains at Garden?" Snarled Seifer. "You're digging a hole? This shuttle's got cannons! Blast a way through!"

Squall and Zell stopped arguing, and everything went silent as everyone looked at Seifer.

"What?" Said Seifer.

"Seifer!" Selphie grinned. "That's amazing! You actually had a good idea!"

"Don't push it, Messenger Girl…"

"Target all weapons near the edge of the detected structure, for the least accidental damage." Squall gave the order, and Selphie aimed the weapons. "Fire."

* * *

The artillery and laser cannons blasted into the ground, vaporizing soil and bedrock. The AI shifted priorities, instantly upgrading the threat level. Soon, all means of concealment would be permanently lost. Avoidance measures were no longer of use, and were abandoned.

Only with erasure of the threat could the enduring safety of the base be restored. The AI checked its databanks for the most viable methods of attack.

_Enabled_.

* * *

The ground abruptly began moving, some distance from the impact of the Ragnarok cannons.

"Cease fire!" Squall ordered, and the guns fell silent.

There was a grinding noise, and a sealed metal archway erupted out of the dirt. As it stopped moving, a featureless door opened, showing a steep staircase leading deep underground.

"Okay." Irvine said slowly. "Either that's a trap, or…" He thought for a moment. "No, that's just a trap."

"Land the shuttle, Selphie." Said Squall. "We're going in."

"Whoah!" Irvine moved to block the exit. "Trap, remember? As in, it's a trap, yeah?"

"We've no choice!" Said Squall. "We have to shut it down, whatever the cost. Brute could be only the start. If that base was a fully stocked biotech facility, it could contain enough bioweapons to wipe out an entire continent."

"Bad idea, Squall. We go in there, we'll regret it. Trust me."

"You scared, cowboy?" Seifer loaded his gunblade.

"Of imminent death?" Irvine limped forward. Selphie was small, but she kicked like a mule on steroids. "Yeah, kinda. But this is still a really bad idea. Bet you fifty gil?"

Seifer turned away.

Irvine shrugged. "Zell?"

"What?"

"Fifty gil says we screw this up?"

"Make it a hundred."

"You're on."

* * *

The metal archway was smooth and featureless, and the stairs inside were steep, leading down into darkness.

Squall studied it, before turning to Selphie "Have you got enough elmonite?"

"Yeah!" Selphie hefted her rucksack. "I can blow this base to smithereens!"

Elmonite was a new type of plastic explosive, recently developed by the Estharian military. More powerful than anything currently in use, one tiny tube was said to be enough to reduce a building to rubble. Selphie, of course, had crammed in as much elmonite as her rucksack could hold, and couldn't wait to try it out.

"Not yet, Selphie." Squall warned. "We have to know what we're dealing with first." He drew his gunblade. "Right. Single file, and keep your eyes open. Remember, they know we're here. Someone must have opened this up."

"Or something." Rinoa said. "Brute was furious. He was desperate for revenge, and he wouldn't have left here without getting it first."

"Yeah?" Said Seifer. "Then what set this off?"

"A computer." Rinoa's voice was cold, and Squall felt guilty. "Rin…"

But she turned away.

_Fine._ "Let's go."

Squall led the way down the stairs. Everything was quiet and still, all surfaces made of the same gleaming metal.

Before long, the stairs ended in a lift. "Four down first, three to follow."

Selphie, Irvine, Quistis and Seifer got in the lift first. Selphie looked around the cubicle. "Where are the buttons?"

"They have to be somewhere!"

"You want to look for yourself, Commander Puberty?" Said Seifer. "There's nothing here!"

Selphie slammed her fists against the lift walls. "Anyone listening? We want to go down!"

The lift disappeared, hurtling down into the depths.

"Voice activated. Cool!" Zell approached the shaft. "Hey, Balamb Garden used to be a Centran shelter, right? Why don't we have this?"

"Shut up, Zell." Said Squall.

* * *

Selphie jumped out of the lift as it stopped, into a corridor only a few feet wide with a metal door at the end.

The others got out of the lift. "Up!" Selphie commanded, and the lift departed. She faced the door, and pushed. It wouldn't budge.

_Hey, if it worked for the lift… _"Open!"

The door slid to one side, to reveal a large metallic chamber, humming devices and weird computer terminals occupying almost every inch of wall space.

"Wow!" It was every gadget girl's dream, and hers especially. She rushed inside. "Guys! You've got to see this! It's incredible!"

Irvine, Quistis and Seifer followed. Irvine whistled. "Big find, Sefie. Know what any of this does?"

"Nope!" Selphie said cheerfully, jumping to a console and pressing buttons at random. Nothing happened.

"Don't do that!" Quistis snapped. "We have to wait for Squall. We can't afford to take any unnecessary risks!"

"Aww…" Selphie moaned. "You always spoil the fun, Quisty."

"That's what she's here for." Seifer laughed. "Why would Centra go in for something like this, anyway? The Centra Ruins are a lot lower tech."

"If you listened during class, Seifer, you'd know." Quistis scowled. "The Centrans believed in keeping things separate and distinct, and making sure they stayed that way. Mixing different things together was seen as heresy, punishable by death in many cases. Hybrids were forbidden, whether mixed race humans, combined weapons like gunblades, or interconnected technological systems. The technology in the ruins of Centra City was used in everyday life. This is biotech, and probably military research and weapons development."

"Exactly." Squall stepped into the chamber, followed by Rinoa and Zell. "Found anything?"

"Lots of technology, but no signs of life." Said Quistis. "And no obvious biotech."

"Probably stored elsewhere." Said Squall. "This must be the administration section."

"Everything running by computer!" Selphie leant over a terminal in the centre of the chamber. "It's been waiting for us for eighty years! I wonder what it's thinking now?"

* * *

_All intruders contained and ready for erasure. All defence predictions complete. Minimal resistance expected._

_RELEASE DRONES. RELEASE DRONES. RELEASE DRONES. RELEASE…_

* * *

"Whatever." Squall readied his gunblade. "Start looking around, but don't touch anything that looks even slightly dangerous. Keep alert, and be prepared to run for the exit." He moved to a line of hatches, and pressed them. Nothing happened.

Zell and Seifer moved in opposite directions, each towards what looked like a database mainframe. Selphie, Quistis and Rinoa crowded round the computer terminal in the centre.

Irvine moved cautiously to one side, keeping a tight grip on his shotgun and one eye on the exit. As a trained sniper, he knew how to watch people, and he could recognise the signs when someone was watching him. And right now, his instincts were screaming at him to run like hell.

"Hey guys!" Zell called. "Look at this!" He pointed to a depression in the wall. "It looks like a doorway…"

"Zell! Look out!" Selphie screamed. Zell looked up, as a flood of what looked like metallic insects burst out from a suddenly open alcove and swarmed all over him. He crushed several with his fists, but many more stabbed him repeatedly with mechanical pincers and needles. The exit door slammed shut, and several protective covers slammed down in front of it to block it off.

"What the hell!" Seifer turned from what he was looking at, and was about to rush forward when two claws shot out, one grabbing an arm, the other a leg. Seifer switched his gunblade to his other hand, and chopped down at the claw trapping his arm, as more insects crawled across it to attack the rest of his body.

Irvine saw things leaping at him. His thoughts decided that they looked like weird robotic spiders, before his reflexes, which had always been the faster of the two, fired his shotgun.

The explosive charge shredded the spiderbots into metallic splinters. Irvine ran for the central computer terminal. "Girls! We got company!"

Squall smashed some of the spiderbots attacking him with his gunblade, while casting thunder spells with his other hand at the rest. Clearing a space, he ran for the central terminal. "Selphie! The elmonite!"

Zell and Seifer collapsed, metal claws grabbing their bodies and dragging them into hatches that closed behind them.

"Selphie!" Another hatch opened, and Squall threw a grenade into it as the spiderbots swarmed out. "Split the elmonite into multiple packages! As much damage to as many systems as possible will shut it down!" He kept running, and stepped on a blue line on the floor.

"SQUALL!" Rinoa screamed, as an electrical surge sparked through his body.

Squall shuddered, and fell forward. A floor section swung open in front of him, and he fell through and disappeared.

"SQUALL!" Rinoa screamed again as she rushed forward, but the floor had already sealed shut.

As more spiderbots began crawling in, Irvine reached the central terminal, crouching next to Selphie as she grabbed tubes of elmonite from her backpack. "Typical! Zell loses a bet, owes me a hundred bucks, and then he just disappears!"

"Never mind, Irvy!" Selphie cast a series of thunder spells, and spiderbots exploded. "At least you guessed right for once!"

"Yeah…" Irvine loaded grenade shells into his shotgun, as he watched thick swarms of spiderbots march towards them from all directions. "I hate it when I do that."

_**Well, that's one way to stop everyone worrying about your relationship. Squall, Zell, and Seifer are down, the others are seconds away from joining them, and the bad guys haven't even got started yet – are Seed really up to this? Nothing of Brute in this chapter – will he return, or is he already dead? And what exactly is the Centran Legacy?**_

_**One small step towards the truth, and one giant leap towards disaster – the next chapter, Not Human, now being written!**_


	6. Not Human

_**Aaaannnnddd… Chapter Six! (Congratulations to everyone that's read this far.) One thing that puzzles me a bit is the apparent lack of concern about whether Brute's dead or not. I've come up with two possible reasons: 1) You think Brute is such an interesting character that you're convinced I wouldn't waste him by killing him off this early; or 2) You don't give a stuff if he's dead or not. (I'm really hoping for the first one, of course!)**_

_**For those of you who like the concept of the Centran Empire, it gets a bit more background in this chapter. I'm seeing it as a high-tech version of Nazi Germany, with a bit of the Roman Empire (i.e. slaves should be grateful to play their part in our grand civilization) mixed in.**_

_'The GEC has surpassed all expectations, displaying performance and reliability far greater than any other unit. It kills to exist, and exists only to kill. Once deployed, it follows all commands without question, destroys all in its path without hesitation. Recommend immediate…' – __**Only surviving fragment of a transcript found in the Centra Ruins over thirty years ago, and the only known mention of a GEC in any record or artefact yet found. Most historians agree that it must have been a revolutionary new type of war machine, but exactly what it was and why it was so effective remains a mystery.**_

Chapter 6: Not Human

Irvine fired, the grenade shell driving the spiderbots back. He reloaded, trying not to think anything but _Reload, fire. Reload, fire. Reload…_

A few more shells and a fragmentation grenade cleared a breathing space, and he looked around. To his right, Selphie sent a constant barrage of thunder spells into the enemy while arming tubes of elmonite. Irvine grinned. His hyper little fireball had always loved magic and explosives. He just hoped they loved her enough to help them get out of here.

Behind him, Rinoa's cold face was a mask of rage. Electrical energy surrounded her like a halo, lancing out at spiderbots, electrical devices and computers, her magic destroying everything it touched. Selphie was the magical expert, but Rinoa was a sorceress, one of Hyne's chosen, inheritor of a magical gift beyond anything any other human could hope to attain. She didn't need any help.

But Quistis was hard pressed. Her barbed whip scattered the spiderbots every time it lashed out, but not fast enough to prevent them slowly moving closer.

"Quisty!" Irvine shouted, firing another grenade shell. Why wasn't she using magic?

Then Quistis let her weapon fall, her gaze blank, arms raised to the sky. The air shimmered, and an immense bird burst into existence, wreathed in sparks of electricity. Quetzacoatl, the Guardian Force of the storm, had been summoned.

Quetzacoatl spread its wings, and lightning bolts slammed into the ground like raindrops. The spiderbots closest to the Seeds shattered instantly, forming a circle of tiny metal fragments that expanded outwards as the storm continued.

_Not bad._ Irvine aimed a shot at a mass of spiderbots, but a lightning bolt turned them to dust before he could pull the trigger. _But the problem with GF's is…_

The electrical storm ceased, and Quetzacoatl vanished. More spiderbots swarmed out of alcoves, hatches, and every possible opening, making up their losses, advancing once again.

_They don't last long. _The spiderbots were moving faster now, frantically moving towards them. Apparently the AI was getting worried.

_And it ain't the only one._ "Nice one Quistis!" He shouted. "Another dozen of those and we'll be out of here!"

"Enough jokes, Irvine." Quistis cast lightning spells with both hands, blasting spiderbots into nothingness as she waited for her GF to regain its strength, so it could be summoned again. "Keep your mind on your shooting."

"No need!" Selphie primed a tube of elmonite, tied it to a grenade, and threw it at a computer mainframe. "He doesn't need a mind for that."

"Yeah!" Irvine kept firing. "I don't need… What?"

The elmonite detonated, blowing a hole through the metal wall and shredding the mainframe. Red alarm lights flashed all across the walls, but then faded.

"That looked important." Said Irvine.

"Not important enough. I can't find the central system!" Selphie primed more elmonite. "Any ideas?"

Irvine looked at the gleaming walls, the humming technology. "Sorry, darlin. Not my department. Quistis?"

"I don't know." Said Quistis. "But a lot of modern technology is based on Centran designs, so the layout should be similar to what we're familiar with. Just make your best guess."

Irvine kept firing at the spiderbots. "How many of these things are there, anyway?"

"The AI had over eighty years to make them." Quistis threw a grenade at a monitor screen, and it exploded. "I don't think we'll stop them all. Not this way."

Running low on shells, Irvine tried magic. He wasn't a natural by any means, but he'd improved recently, thanks to a lot of late night magic training sessions with Selphie.

Well, late night sessions, anyway. They always started off with magic training, but usually progressed to… other activities. Sometimes the training part didn't last five minutes, especially when Selphie wore that strapless chiffon number. Still, his magic had improved a bit.

Holstering his shotgun, Irvine cast a lightning spell, and a small spark erupted from his fingertips. The spiderbot nearest him lost a leg, scuttling forward on the other seven as the spell energy faded away.

_Ah, hell._ Irvine pulled a couple of machine pistols from his belt, aimed and fired, watching packs of spiderbots explode under the automatic fire. _Who needs magic anyway?_

Another terminal exploded. "Keep going, Sefie!" Said Irvine, but there was no response. "Sefie?" It wasn't like her to go quiet, especially when she got to blow stuff up…

He turned, to see Selphie staring upwards. She looked terrified. _Uh oh._ He looked up.

Spiderbots were crawling across the ceiling. They weren't moving as fast upside down, but they'd be directly above in a couple of minutes, if that. And then the spiderbots would fall.

And so would they. Irvine fired at the ceiling. He hit a few, but not enough. More were coming every second, and even if he could destroy all the ones above, the ones on the ground would overwhelm them while he was distracted. There were too many.

"Quistis! Need another lightning storm!"

"I can't!" She shouted. "I need a few more minutes!"

"We don't have a few minutes!" Irvine divided his fire, one machine pistol aimed at the ceiling, the other at the floor. It might give them a few more seconds, but that was all. He was out of luck, out of ideas. "Rinoa! Snap out of it! We need your help!"

No response. Irvine hoped Rinoa would accept that leaving Squall behind was their only chance. She was a sorceress, and if she couldn't help them to escape, they were doomed. If she was determined to stand and fight…

_Game over._

"Rinoa?" Irvine could hear the constant barrage of electrical energy behind him, so he knew Rinoa was still fighting. But why was she so quiet? After losing Squall, he thought she'd be mad as hell, screaming and shouting enough to bring the roof down. Rinoa wasn't the quiet sort of gal.

But she was a sorceress. He turned, hoping he was wrong.

He wasn't. Rinoa was floating in the air, an aura of flowing blue lightning streaming from her body into the air around her, getting brighter and stronger every second. Every spiderbot that got within range exploded instantly, without any need for her to aim. Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of fury.

"Sef! Quisty! Rin's going full sorceress!" _Whenever you think the day can't get worse, it always proves you wrong._

"Damn!" Quistis looked. "Try and protect yourselves! Shield against magic!"

"Against a sorceress?" Irvine couldn't believe it. "That's like shielding an inferno with an ice cube! We can't stop her!"

"But…" Selphie bottom lip quivered. "Rin's our friend! She wouldn't hurt us, right?" Nobody spoke. "Right?"

"She won't notice us." Quistis told her, breaking more spiderbots with her whip. "Losing Squall has made her lose control, lose herself within her magic. He's the only one who can help her, but he's gone."

"We have to do something!" Selphie screeched.

"Nothing we can do." Quistis's voice was cold. She'd already given up. "One way or another, it's over."

Ghostly feathers coalesced in the air, ethereal wings growing from Rinoa's back. The mark of a sorceress. The emblem of her full power, born of pure emotion.

Irvine had seen this happen three times before. Once when they were fighting Sorceress Adel, which almost killed him. Once in the battle with Sorceress Ultimecia, which did kill him, for a few seconds. And once with Rinoa, which eventually drove Ultimecia back long enough for the others to get his heart to start beating again.

Ultimecia's wings had been of absolute darkness, the aura of her evil. Rinoa's wings had been white then, the colour of pure innocence, the symbol of her hope to help her friends.

But now, the ghostly wings were blood red, glowing crimson tears. Rinoa wanted vengeance. And she'd sell her soul and kill her friends to get it.

"Irvy?" Selphie was crouched against the terminal, looking scared and vulnerable. "Irvy, we won't get out of this, will we?"

Her voice was lost and heartbroken. She'd always had hope before, no matter how dark the day. But at the end, she had nothing.

He would have lied to comfort her, but they both knew that wouldn't work. She wouldn't have fallen for it. She knew him too well.

Irvine saw Quistis, still fighting back the spiderbots when she didn't need to, just to keep herself occupied. He saw Rinoa, surrounded by the lightning storm, seconds away from unleashing it and killing them all.

Most of all, he saw Selphie, still with a faint hope in her eyes that he would save them. Like that would ever happen. He knew guns, he knew women, and that was it. He didn't do heroics.

"Irvy?" Selphie's lips were trembling. "You got an idea?"

And Irvine thought of something. True, it wasn't much of an idea. It wouldn't stop Rinoa. It wouldn't stop the spiderbots. It wouldn't help them escape. And it was far from original.

_Die exactly as you've lived, son. Don't change your ways just because it's your last day._ Irvine's stepfather had told him that, and Irvine had taken it to heart.

And when you had nothing to lose, any idea was good enough. "Don't you worry, gorgeous. I got an idea."

"Really?" Selphie grinned, in that trademark way of hers that shone brighter than the sun. "You'll get us out of here?"

"Not exactly." Irvine smirked at her look of surprise, and leaned in before she could move. He pressed his lips against hers as he took her in his arms, holding her tight and kissing her tighter. He felt her tense, but then she relaxed, and he carried on kissing her.

The plan worked great. He'd just got his tongue fully in her mouth when Rinoa's magic hit them.

* * *

_You're Centran._

There are many stages of grief, the last being acceptance. But Ellone wondered if she ever would.

Everyone knew what Centrans were like. Greedy for power and conquest, living for battle and slaughter. The most evil civilization the world had ever known, ruling their empire for centuries, turning the world into hell itself. Most of the scars had healed, but the hatred remained.

She knew what happened in the Centran Rebellion. Hate had driven both sides, making them evil as each other. Even when the empire had fallen, with millions of Centrans dead, it wasn't enough for the rebels. Their bloodlust hadn't been satisfied. Even killing every Centran man, woman and child in the world wasn't enough for them. They did other things first, before they killed them, and then did other things after.

And what they'd done… _Dear Hyne, the things they'd done…_

And it wasn't just the Centrans who suffered. Once there was nothing left of the purebloods, they'd turned on the halfbloods, who'd never been a part of the Empire, never done anything to hurt anyone. Centran halfbloods had suffered almost as much as the slave races under Centran rule, but at least the Centrans had allowed them to live. The rebels didn't. They didn't even kill them quickly.

And after that, the rebels turned on anyone they suspected of being descended from a Centran, however long ago it might have been. Or anyone they thought might have dealings with Centrans. Including anyone who disagreed with anything the rebel leaders said, or anyone who said anything against the rebels, or anyone the rebels just didn't like the look of.

The rebels had been just as evil as the Empire was, becoming just another Centra. And they'd enjoyed it. They'd thought that everything they did was right. How could anyone…

She didn't remember her birth parents. Was it her mother or father who was part Centran? Did they even know? Had someone else found out?

Was this why they died? She hoped not, but…

And a part of her was Centran, descended from an evil and hatred so deep it swallowed the world.

_You're Ellone. That's all that matters, and_ _this doesn't change a thing. _Rinoa had told her that. She'd been through this herself, when she became a sorceress. Rinoa had never asked for her power, but if the world ever found out, they'd hate her for it. Ellone believed her, but it wasn't easy.

Then she thought of Brute. He was a pureblood Centran, but he didn't seem evil, just… confused. Lost. Like a child, fumbling around in the dark. People were already saying he was violent, but Ellone didn't buy that. The Adelists were killing people. He had the right to defend himself.

No, she corrected, he hadn't defended himself. He'd just defended her. He didn't have to. The Adelists weren't after him, and he could have just walked away. Ellone wouldn't have blamed him if he had. But he hadn't.

They'd shot him, stabbed him, nearly killed him a dozen times over, but he hadn't abandoned her. One man against an army, and the army broke first.

She couldn't believe a man like that was evil. Pureblood Centrans were meant to treat halfbloods as slaves, and her Centran blood was much less than half. But he'd protected her, put her life above his own. Being Centran hadn't made him evil, and that meant whatever part of her was Centran, it wasn't evil either.

She felt a lot better, knowing that.

Ellone turned the dog tag in the air, watching it catch the light. 'Brute' was written in elaborate lettering on one side, but nothing else. Uncle Laguna had told her about his dog tags from his army days, marked with his name, rank, and identification for his loved ones and next of kin. Brute just had his name, and nothing else.

Nothing about who he was, nothing about who needed to know of his death. But did anyone need to know? Was there anyone who cared about what happened to him?

They said the tag was too old to be his, but Ellone wasn't convinced. Brute had no possessions, no keepsakes, just this, and his sword. He wouldn't have it unless it was important.

She wondered what his real name was. She couldn't see him with something fancy and extravagant. He didn't seem the proud type. Something humble and unassuming would probably suit him better.

Ellone twisted the tag in the air again, and saw some faint scratchings on the back.

She immediately looked closer. They said the metal was some kind of Centran alloy, not as hard as a Centran sword, but close. Nothing in Esthar could have easily scratched it. She studied the markings closer, moving the tag and studying the light reflecting off the metal. Apparently someone had been trying to write something, but the metal was so hard that they'd had to cut against the surface over and over again, just to make very faint lines. Evidently whoever did this had something very important to say, and was desperate for it to be heard.

She knew it was Brute. It had to be. But what did he want to say?

She studied the scratchings, tracing them out. The first word was _Ego_, the second was _Sum_. It was in Latin. She thought Ego meant me, or I. Ego sum meant… I am?

_I am what?_ Ellone followed the last two words. _Non_… Meaning no? _Dignus_ meaning…She frowned_. I have no dignity? That can't be it._

Then she smiled, switching on her computer terminal and loading an automated translation program. She typed in the words _Ego sum non dignus_, and waited. The results came up one word at a time, and she read them aloud.

"I am not…"

She didn't say the last word, but her blood ran cold as she read it. _Oh no._ It told her something about why Brute acted the way he did, and more importantly, it told her that he didn't have long to live. Assuming he wasn't dead already.

She ran out of the room.

* * *

Everyone takes an instant to awaken fully, and most take longer. No human can act immediately on regaining consciousness.

But Brute wasn't human. His hands lunged as his eyes snapped open, ready to instantly break the man's neck.

The chains pulled his wrists tight, the man in front of him still out of reach. Brute strained against the thick chains, but they held solid, a lot stronger than his restraints at the hospital. His legs were chained as well, allowing him hardly any movement.

"That was quick." The man observed calmly, a brace of knives belted across his chest. "Excellent reflexes. You're a good fighter, from what I hear. Who trained you?"

Brute didn't see any reason to answer, so he didn't. He observed his surroundings, noting that he was in a truck or a lorry, travelling somewhere at a high speed.

The man waited, then shrugged. "You don't seem talkative. Well, that's not a problem." He pulled a knife from his belt. He wasn't that muscular, but his movements were quick, his body wiry. "I have lots of ways to encourage you." The man motioned, and the chains pulled Brute's arms high above his head.

"Now, you're going to tell me something. And you can call me Warren, by the way." Warren leaned forward, waving the knife back and forth in front of Brute's face.

Brute watched Warren, ignoring the knife completely.

"You think you haven't told me anything." Warren sheathed the knife again. "But that's not true. I know exactly what you were thinking."

Warren leaned back. "You see, most people watch the knife. That tells me they're scared, that they're thinking of how I'll torture them. But the knife didn't bother you, did it? You just watched me. That tells me you were only thinking about killing me."

Warren paused, waiting for a response. Brute didn't supply one.

"You're not much for conversation, are you?"

Silence.

"Ah well. Time to get started." Warren snapped his fingers. A large, muscular man came into view. "This is Max, by the way. I work with him quite a lot, and we make a good team. Max, soften him up a little."

Max moved quickly for his size, kicking Brute in the chest. Ribs shattered. Brute doubled up, and Max punched him in the back of the neck. The beating continued for several minutes.

"Let's hold it there." Said Warren. "Max?"

Max grabbed Brute, his arms like steel cables as he forced Brute's face close to his own. "We are your masters, and you are nothing."

Brute coughed up blood. Max sneered. "This pain is only the start. Now talk! Tell us everything, or…"

Brute spat blood into Max's right eye. "You'll pay for that!" Max howled in pain, and punched Brute in the face.

The beating was longer this time, more frenzied. Blood flew in the air as Brute's body crumpled beneath the endless attacks.

Eventually Max stopped, and lifted Brute's face up again. "Now, apologize!"

Brute coughed, almost unable to breathe.

"I said apologise!" Max roared. "Beg for forgiveness, or I'll…"

Brute spat blood into the other eye. Max bellowed in anger, and his punch almost left Brute without a jaw.

As Max continued beating the Centran into a bloody pulp, Warren shook his head. "Max, I really don't think we're making progress here."

* * *

"Uncle Laguna!" Ellone burst into the room. "We have to help Brute!"

"Eh?" Laguna woke up half-snore, pulling his head up from the stack of paperwork. "Okay, I'll call a psychiatrist, we can book him a few sessions…"

"Not that sort of help! Unless we find him soon, he's going to die!"

"What?" Laguna woke up fully this time, yanking open a desk drawer. "Right. He saved your life, Elle, so that's good enough for me." He pulled out a machine gun. "He needs help, he's got it. Kiros, Ward, we got a rescue!"

"Laguna, don't you think we should call in the army?" Kiros asked.

"No way!" Laguna had almost run out the door already. "We're the Winhill monster hunters! We can do this."

Ward made a series of gestures in sign language. Kiros nodded. "Ward thinks that anything that can kill Brute will make short work of us, and I agree with him. We've all seen Brute fight. He's an army on his own."

"Yeah, all right." Laguna grouched. "Army as well. We'll get those… Hang on." He turned to Ellone. "Who are we fighting exactly?"

"We're not fighting anyone!" Ellone stamped her foot in frustration. "Nobody's attacking him, don't you see? He's suicidal! He wants to kill himself!"

"What? No way!" Said Laguna.

"Actually, the way he fights…" Kiros frowned. "That makes a kind of sense. But what makes you so sure?"

"His dog tag." Ellone gave it to Kiros. "Brute wrote something on the back. Ego sum non dignus."

Everyone looked blank. "Meaning…" Laguna started.

"I am not worthy." Ellone stated.

"Not worthy of being a Brute?" Laguna looked even more confused than normal.

"Not worthy of life!" Said Ellone. "Remember what he told Squall? You are more than I can ever be? This world is yours, not mine? It all fits! He doesn't want to live!"

"Makes sense." Laguna put down his machinegun, and hit the video comm. General Estoc's face appeared on the screen. "Estoc! We got news about Brute."

"That's a coincidence." Estoc remarked, but Laguna cut him off. "We think he'll kill himself."

"Oh, I don't think his kidnappers will allow that, Sir."

"I told you to call me…"

"Kidnappers?" Ellone cut in. "What kidnappers?"

"A flash of high intensity light, with the source and target both at ground level, was detected early this morning."

"Okay." Said Laguna. "And for those of us who aren't spies, that means what?"

"I knew if we found Brute, we'd need a way to subdue him long enough to take him into custody without getting everyone killed. Trying to knock him out is too risky, and magic probably wouldn't work, as he's highly resistant."

"What about sleep gas?"

"Laguna, biotechnology made him stronger, faster and more powerful than anything human, so making him resistant to drugs as well would be child's play. I've seen his medical reports. They had to pump him full of enough anaesthetic to kill a dozen men, just to stop him waking up during surgery." Estoc paused. "Someone wanted him to be the ultimate soldier, but whatever else they did, his eyes must still be just as sensitive to light. Blinding him temporarily with high intensity light might be the only way to make him vulnerable enough to capture him."

"Yeah? How do you know they didn't make his eyes resistant to light? That'd make him even more of a perfect soldier!"

"And make him blind." Kiros pointed out.

"Oh yeah." Laguna paused. "It would, wouldn't it? So how do we find them?"

"Even blind, Brute would have put up a considerable fight. They must be a large group, heavily armed. They wouldn't dare split up. Brute's too dangerous, and they'd need every man they've got to guard him. So no smaller vehicles, and public transport would be too easily noticed. I'd say we're looking for a large truck or lorry of some kind, on a main road. They'd want out of here as fast as possible."

"Right. Get everyone we've got looking for him. He's Centran, he looks weird, he's usually out of his mind, and he's only part human and part Hyne knows what, but he's still one of us." He took his machine gun, and checked the sights. "And we don't leave a man behind." He paused. "Or whatever the hell he is."

* * *

"I think he's recovered enough." Warren said. Max had finished the latest punishment beating, but they hadn't done anything to Brute after that. "Now we can try a different approach."

"Why let him rest?" Max demanded. "I can still break him."

"Break, yes." Warren tapped his knives. "Make him talk, no. And if you'd beaten him much more, he might have bitten his own tongue off. Actually, I think he'd be rather smug if he did."

Warren drew a knife. "He wants to play hero. We can deal with that. Max, remember that Galbadian weapons cache? Whatever we did to that guy, he just wouldn't talk, would he? He did a lot of screaming in agony, of course, but he never talked. So we found his pretty young wife, and got to work on her. Then, he couldn't talk fast enough. Of course, it was too late to let either of them live."

Max smiled at the memory, and so did Warren. "Now, I can't really see you as the married type. But there is a girl you care about, isn't there? A girl you really want to keep safe?" He leaned closer. "That girl you killed all those people to protect? How about we torture her, hmmm? How much agony would you let her suffer before you talked?

"Irrelevant." Brute had already thought about this. "She isn't here."

"So you can talk!" Warren exclaimed in mock amazement. "Finally. Not the words we'd hoped for, though. So, you don't think she's here?"

"I know she isn't."

"But are you certain?" Warren drew a knife, and studied it closely. "Are you willing to risk her life? Are you willing to watch her suffer if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong." Said Brute. "You're stupid, but not that stupid. You would have hurt her first, if you could. You wouldn't have started by attacking me, unless I was the only one you could attack."

Warren locked eyes with him, but finally turned away. "You're smarter than you look. And sadly for us, quite correct, at least for now. We've only got you." He tapped the knife. "But why do you think I'm stupid?"

"I'm still alive."

"Yes." Warren waited. "And?"

"And nothing." Brute told him. "You could have killed me, but you didn't. That was stupid."

"Someone else wants you alive. And he's very smart. Smart enough to control everything, and everyone. Even you. You think you're tough, but that's only because you haven't met him."

"You only think that, because he hasn't met me."

"Oh, he'll know how to play you. I guarantee he's met your type before."

"I have no type." Brute's grimace was a mockery of a smile. "There's only me. Only one."

"We'll see. But you said I was stupid, and I don't like being insulted." Warren smiled. "Just for that, I'm going to pay that girl of yours a visit, after I've finished with you. I'll take my time in destroying her."

"You won't get the chance." Said Brute. "I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, this is the bargaining part, isn't it?" Warren clapped his hands together. "I always enjoy this! Let me guess. If we set you free, you're going to let us live, right?"

"No. You set me free, I'll kill you now. If not, I'll kill you later."

"That's one I haven't heard before." Warren smirked. "But think about it. You're not giving us much of an incentive, are you?"

"I don't give incentives." Said Brute "I kill. That's all I do."

"You really are unique." Warren pulled another knife from his belt. "I'm grateful, really. I almost never meet people who are different."

"The one who kills you is always different." Brute locked stares with Warren, and saw the hint of fear, well masked, in his eyes. "That's why they kill you."

"We'll see." Warren's smile looked forced this time "Now, I like my knives. Like paintbrushes, really." he spun both knives in his hands. "Let's make your body a work of art."

The knives cut, and stabbed, and slashed, again and again. Brute ignored them. He'd feel the pain soon enough, he knew. But pain was the consequence of what he was.

And in his mind, voices whispered his one reason for being, his sole purpose for existence.

_Kill them._

_Kill them all._

* * *

Quistis felt the lightning hit, felt the magic and electricity surging through her.

And then the storm moved on, leaving her behind. The pain knocked her down, but she was still alive. The storm moved outwards, an expanding sphere of fury and blue fire, detonating every spiderbot it passed, crumbling them to dust.

And then there was nothing but dust. Every spiderbot was destroyed, but Rinoa wasn't finished. Deprived of her first targets, her fury hit the computers and devices, terminal and databanks exploding in flames. Even the metal hatches the spiderbots came from, melted and crushed by the force of her power.

Quistis heard a strange noise, and looked down to see what looked like Irvine and Selphie trying to inhale each other's tonsils.

Selphie slapped Irvine round the face, and broke free. "Get off, you pervert!"

"That's all the thanks I get?" Irvine fell back.

"You lied to me!" Selphie hit him again. "You said you had a plan!"

"I did have a plan!" Irvine protested. "But I never said it was any good."

"Your plan was a make-out session? How was that supposed to save our lives?"

"It wasn't! I mean, we were gonna die whatever we did! Can you think of a better way to spend your last moments?"

Selphie blushed an interesting shade of crimson.

"Yeah, Sefie, there is that. I like you way you think, darlin', but we only had a few seconds, and you know it's not that easy getting the buttons off your… AHH!"

Quistis left Selphie to administer the punishment beating, and turned back to Rinoa. If she didn't stop, the base would explode.

"GIVE HIM BACK!" Rinoa screamed, her magic amplifying her voice. "GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"

"_Stop. System damage unacceptable to primary function. Secondary function abandoned. You are permitted to leave."_ A synthesised voice came from all around them.

"LET HIM GO!" Rinoa screamed, lost in her sorceress powers.

_"Unacceptable. Primary function cannot be compromised. Release of captives impossible."_

"LET HIM GO, OR I'LL DESTROY YOU!" Her magic surged, and an entire wall of terminals and databanks exploded.

_"Halt. Damage reaching critical levels. All captives will be terminated immediately if further damage is sustained."_

"So he's alive." Rinoa stopped. Her magic seethed and raged, but something inside her held it in place. "Then let him go. If you hurt him, I'll destroy you."

_"Irrelevant. Release of captives will violate the primary function. Destruction of this facility will not violate the primary function."_

Rinoa was losing control, looking ready to lash out. And if that happened…

"Stop!" Quistis shouted before she knew what she was doing. "Wait! It's an Artificial Intelligence! Logic is the only thing it understands! That's the only way to make it release Squall!"

Rinoa turned on her, and Quistis looked at the rage in her eyes. Getting in the way of the fury of a sorceress was like standing in the path of a meteor. If Rinoa lost control, there wasn't anything she could do to stop her.

Rinoa seethed, but finally calmed. "Work quickly." She hissed.

Quistis checked a sigh of relief. "What is the primary function?" She asked the wall nearest her.

_"To protect the knowledge of this facility, and the technology it contains, until reclaimed by the Centran Empire."_

"But the Empire was destroyed over eighty years ago!" Quistis protested, knowing at any moment Rinoa might incinerate everything in sight. "The Centrans are practically extinct!"

_"All known data agrees with your conclusion. You are probably correct."_

"So you'll let them go?"

_"Negative. Primary function cannot be compromised."_

"But nobody will ever be able to claim your technology! There's no reason for you to do this!"

_"Irrelevant. Primary function must be obeyed. A reason is not required."_

Quistis could feel Rinoa's patience about to snap. Squall, Zell and Seifer were about to die.

"Wait!" There had to be another way, but she couldn't think of anything. How…

_That's it!_ "Who can order you to release the captives?"

"_All personnel with_ _Beta security level or above."_

"And who are they? Show us!"

A life sized holographic image of a man appeared next to the central console, and readout appeared on the console screen. Selphie watched the display, reading out the words, Irvine behind her. Rinoa stood apart, controlling her magic, but only just.

_Name: Ellis Imago._

_Codename: Not Applicable_

_Classification: Centran, Human._

_Position: Head of Security._

_Security Level: Beta._

_Last Known Status: Deceased_

"Only show us those whose last known status isn't deceased!" Quistis demanded. Why did computers always have to be so literal?

A different hologram appeared, this time of a woman.

_Name: Iridia Sheridan._

_Codename: Not Applicable_

_Classification: Centran, Human._

_Position: Administrative Overseer._

_Security Level: Beta._

_Last Known Status: Alive_

_Date of Last Known Status…_

"Ninety years ago!" Selphie screeched.

Quistis shook her head, turning to the wall. "Are there any living personnel currently within this facility?"

"Negative."

Quistis swore under her breath. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

"I'll run a search. Eyes and hair, both black..." Selphie said behind her, then screamed. "It's him!"

Quistis spun round, to see a hologram of Brute. She looked at the console.

_Name: Marcus Kensai._

_Codename: Brute_

_Classification: GEC._

_Position: Base Commander._

_Security Level: Alpha._

_Last Known Status: Alive_

_Date of Last Known Status…_

The date was less than a fortnight ago.

"He's a GEC?" Quistis gasped. "Of course… It all fits…"

"What's a GEC?" Selphie asked.

"A new design for a Centran war machine, so good it made everything else obsolete." Irvine laughed. "Or so everyone thought. Galbadia's wanted it for years. Spent millions trying to find a clue how to build it."

"We should have known." Quistis shook her head. "The only record of it said that it killed better than any other unit, but Centrans believed biotechnology was the future, not robotics. To them, soldiers and machines were almost the same thing."

"So Brute, I mean Marcus, can release Squall, Zell and Seifer?" Said Selphie.

_"Correct."_

Rinoa suddenly came alive, filled with purpose. A blood-red feather appeared in her hands, surrounded by the aura of her magic. "Show him to me!" She hissed, and the feather disappeared.

"It says he's a GEC." Said Selphie. "What's that stand for? Does it mean he's not human?"

"Human or not, it doesn't matter. Marcus has to help us." Said Quistis. "The C must mean Centra, or Centran. GE could mean anything."

"But if he's the base commander…" Selphie began. "He must have set the security to attack us. Why'd he do that? We helped him!"

"_Negative. Commander Kensai never gave this facility a security setting, so the default settings were enabled."_

"So he went mad, and forgot to turn off the deathtrap setting when he left." Irvine shrugged. "Typical."

"So who set the default security settings?" Selphie demanded. "They'd have to be some sick, evil, murdering…"

_"The Centran Empire."_

"Three out of three." Irvine muttered.

Rinoa suddenly moved. "He's in a truck, driven across the water towards Galbadia. Passing Fisherman's Horizon in fifteen minutes."

Quistis thought. Fisherman's Horizon was in the middle of the ocean, on one side of a trans-continental motorway that connected the Estharian and Galbadian landmasses. With the Ragnarok shuttle, they could get there in under two hours.

"He's in pain." Rinoa continued, with a twisted smile on her face. "They're torturing him."

"But he can't feel pain." Selphie said, clearly uncomfortable at how Rinoa was acting. "He didn't before."

"He does now." Hissed Rinoa. "But not enough."

Quistis hoped Marcus would agree to help, for all their sakes, including his. Marcus might be tough enough to take on an army single-handed, but against a sorceress, there could only be one outcome.

Then she remembered something. "What happens to Squall, Zell and Seifer if we don't return?"

"Hostages will be terminated in accordance with security protocols. Current time to erasure is three hours, fifty two minutes and twelve seconds."

"What! You can't do that!" Selphie screamed. "We need more time!"

"Stop!" Quistis stepped in front of Rinoa as she was about to release another blast of magic. "We blow up this base, Squall's dead. They'll all be dead. Marcus is our only chance to save their lives. Find him, and they live. Fight now?" She bit her lip. "They die."

Quistis stepped aside. "We have to go." She held her breath. If Rinoa lashed out…

Rinoa ran for the exit door, Irvine following. Selphie had already left. She was the fastest pilot Garden had, and the most reckless and dangerous. But they didn't have time to play it safe.

_We'll be back, Squall. We'll get you out of here._ Quistis thought, then ran for the exit.

_**Better post your reviews fast – the clock is ticking! Can the Seeds get to Marcus in time, or will Warren kill him first? Will a GEC, whatever one is, help them save Squall, Zell, and Seifer, and even if he (or it) does, will Rinoa kill Marcus afterwards? Step on the gas and accelerate to maximum speed – the Highway to Hellfire is coming up fast…**_


	7. Highway to Hellfire

_**Chapter 7 is here! (Sorry about the wait – crappy Internet connection, computer needed reformatting, and worst of all – I ran out of tea!) I think music for this chapter should be something tense and dramatic like Nightwish – End of all hope. So without further ado, let's get on with the action and violence!**_

"_Life is a blade, existence is pain. I only exist to serve the purpose for which I was created – to serve the Empire, to kill the enemies of the Emperor, and to fulfil the glory of the Centran Race, the true masters of this planet. Death to all who oppose the will of Centra!" –_ **_Marcus 'Brute' Kensai, at approximately seven years old. (Exact birth date classified, by order of the Emperor of Centra)_**

Chapter 7: Highway to Hellfire

"So what is a GEC, anyway?" Selphie pushed the engines to maximum speed. "I mean, he can't just be a machine, can he? He's human, right?"

"Probably not." Said Quistis. "At least not by our definition of human. Centra wanted to create a war machine out of a person, and their biotechnology could do things we can hardly imagine, even eighty years later. They could have done anything." She looked at the others, all gathered in the cockpit of the Ragnarok. "And they probably did."

"So what happens when we get him on board?" Irvine asked.

"Don't let him near the controls." Quistis warned. "Or any other important area. We can't afford to trust him."

"You think he can fly the Ragnarok?" Selphie exclaimed. "No way!"

"He's a war machine, Selphie!" Quistis shook her head. "The finest Centra ever created, and that's saying a lot! They would have trained him to use any weapon, artillery, or vehicle on the battlefield. We can't let him get his hands on the Ragnarok."

"Why'd they do that, anyway?" Said Selphie. "Centrans made the best war machines ever, more than enough! Why make machines out of people?"

"Who knows?" Irvine shrugged. "Mad bastards, all of 'em."

"Better concealed, and more versatile, probably." Said Quistis. "Normal war machines are easy to see, and can usually only operate on one type of terrain. Remember the Galbadian 'Black Widow', on your Seed exam?"

"Yeah!" Selphie nodded like she wanted her head to fall off. "I thought it was gonna kill us! That was powerful!"

"Only on land." Quistis corrected. "Against an airstrike, it wouldn't stand a chance. And on sea, it would sink. Even if I hadn't destroyed it with artillery, once the Seed boats left the shore, it couldn't follow."

"But Marcus could?"

"Exactly. He could hijack any vehicle, use any weapon, steal an enemy uniform and blend in with their soldiers, and nobody would notice until it was too late. No need to refuel, no need for maintenance. Just give him an order, and he'll kill anyone you tell him to."

"Following orders…" Selphie bounced in her chair. "Protect Ellone! That's what he's been ordered to do! It has to be!"

"Of course!" Quistis couldn't believe she'd missed something that obvious. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

"You're blonde." Said Irvine.

"That's why he didn't kill anyone at the hospital! Minimal force in self-defence, lethal force when carrying out his orders! It all makes… What do you mean, blonde?"

* * *

The body of Marcus was motionless and limp, hanging from the chains. None of the mercenaries paid him much attention, believing he was helpless, not a threat.

Their mistake.

Warren was in charge. Quick, agile, and cunning, but lacking in strength. Attack with brute force, overwhelm his defences before he could react.

Max was big and strong, but lacking in speed and flexibility, confident his muscle would protect him. Appearing clumsy at first would make him arrogant, careless. And then, dead.

The rest were of no consequence. Rank and file all, hired muscle. Easily disposed of.

Marcus remembered the vehicle stopping just before he lost consciousness for the second time. Strange. They wanted to bring him to their master, so why the delay?

Someone punched him in the face. Marcus endured the flash of pain, moaning faintly as if semiconscious. His wounds cracked open, bleeding anew.

Warren was a gifted torturer, but still an amateur, while the Centrans who created Marcus had been true masters of the art. Marcus still felt pain, from the knives gouging deep into his flesh and tearing his skin off, but he always felt pain, so that meant nothing.

And physical mutilation meant even less. Marcus knew it was meant to break his spirit, shatter his ego by making him look hideous, convince him that he was helpless to stop them. A highly effective method, as Warren clearly knew.

But only effective for humans, when Marcus was nothing of the sort. Melissa had told him once that looks didn't matter, that only what was inside mattered. Marcus hadn't told her that he already knew, that he'd always known.

Because on the inside, he knew he was a monster, more hideous and terrifying than a demon from the deepest pits of hell. That was what really mattered. However disfigured his appearance, it was nothing compared to that.

Had Warren been smarter, and more skilled, he would have made an acceptable Centran. But the Centrans were extinct.

And soon, Warren would be joining them.

* * *

"Remember, Marcus is our only objective here." Quistis warned them, as they gathered in the Ragnarok cockpit. "We already have equipment ready to call the Centran base, so all we need to do is get Marcus onboard the Ragnarok, then get him to override the base security."

"Can't we blow them all to smithereens?" Selphie kept glancing back while piloting the Ragnarok, which worried Quistis quite a bit.

"No!" Said Quistis. "Marcus is the priority. The people holding him are not our concern. We'll kill as many as we need to, but no more. We can't afford any distractions. Understand?"

Selphie and Irvine nodded, and after a moment, so did Rinoa.

"Right. Now, we'll go over the plan one last time."

Irvine yawned theatrically, but Quistis ignored him. "Once we reach the vehicle, Selphie will match their speed, and Irvine will maintain covering fire. Once we're directly overhead, myself and Rinoa will form the assault team. Rinoa?"

"Yes." Rinoa folded her arms. "The lorry has two carriages, with a sealed passageway between each. Brute is in the front carriage, chained to the wall in the middle."

Quistis watched the sorceress carefully. She'd been silent when they left the Centran base, but slowly became more rational as time passed, even giving a full description of where Marcus was being held. Quistis still wasn't sure if she could trust her like this, but she didn't have much choice. If Rinoa could control her emotions for long enough, this mission should be fairly straightforward. If not…

"Most of the guards are in the last carriage. Myself and Rinoa will lower ourselves onto the roof of the first carriage. Once we land, we climb down to the passageway between the carriages, and set two explosive charges, which are magnetized. Once they detonate, the front carriage will be blown open to allow us access, and the passageway will be blocked off, sealing the rear carriage and keeping the troops inside out of the fight. Once inside, we get to Marcus, and protect him while killing everyone else inside the carriage. Then we free him, get out and back onto the roof, attach ourselves to the harnesses, and climb back inside the Ragnarok, so Marcus can contact the base."

"What if Brute won't order the base to release Squall?" Rinoa asked in a flat, dead voice, voicing the question nobody wanted to ask, and Quistis didn't want to answer.

"Then we make him talk." Quistis answered, not liking that Rinoa had never referred to Marcus by his actual name. Quistis wondered if making Marcus seem less of a person was Rinoa's way of preparing herself to commit murder, then decided she wasn't going to think about that. "Whatever it takes. Just don't kill him."

"He has to live." Rinoa hissed. "He has to talk. Nothing else."

Quistis wasn't going to think about that, either. "Okay, we'll be there soon. Everyone to their positions." Irvine left for the cargo bay door, but Rinoa didn't move.

"Rinoa?" Quistis asked.

Rinoa didn't respond, still staring at the wall, not moving a muscle.

"Rin?" Quistis repeated. The magical aura surrounding the sorceress spat cold fire, raging against Rinoa's will. "We need Brute alive."

"I know." Rinoa hissed.

"But do you accept it?" Quistis knew she was pushing her luck. If her questions made Rinoa lose her temper, the Ragnarok was scrap metal, and there wouldn't be enough left of the people inside to fill a thimble. "This isn't his fault. He's not to blame."

"He took everything!" Rinoa screeched, her eyes burning vivid red as Quistis stepped back. "Before he came, we were happy! He took our lives from us, he stole our future! He has to pay!"

"Okay." Quistis knew when to give in. "But he has to talk to the AI first, to free Squall. Remember?"

Rinoa nodded, and Quistis left her alone. She hoped that once Squall was safe, Rinoa would return to her senses. She didn't think about the alternative. She had enough to worry about.

Irvine was tying one end of a long strap around his rifle, the other end already tightened around his wrist. He wasn't usually in the habit of dropping his gun, but with Selphie's taste for aerial acrobatics, anything was possible.

"Irvine?" Quistis hoped this conversation would go better. "You're sure you can maintain covering fire at this speed?"

"Nah." Irvine shook his head. "I just wanna see how long it takes to get myself shot." He loaded a magazine of armour piercing rounds. "Any more daft questions?"

"One more smart remark, Irvine…" Quistis ignited a fire spell in her hand. "And your hat gets it."

"You can't do that!" Irvine jammed his cowboy hat over his head with a look of horror. "This is my lucky hat! I'm always lucky when I'm wearing this!"

"Lucky?" Said Quistis. "You wore that on our first flight in the Ragnarok, and Selphie nearly flew into a cliff. You wore it when fighting Seifer, and he nearly cut you in half, before he slipped in your spilt blood. And you wore it when fighting Ultimecia, when she killed you, and we only just resuscitated you in time."

"Exactly!" Irvine tied the hat around his head securely. "Think how much worse it would have been without my hat!"

"Never mind that now. What about your harness?"

"No way, Quisty!" Irvine shook his head. "Sniper got to have his arms free. I wear that, it's gonna slow me down."

"And if you don't wear it, you'll fall out the shuttle when Selphie does a sharp turn! Just put it on, Irvine. That's an order!"

Quistis entered the cockpit, ignoring Irvine as he muttered something. For once, Selphie was sat perfectly still.

"Ready, Selphie?"

"Yeah." Selphie was quiet, not her usual exuberant self, and said nothing more. Quistis turned to leave.

"It's not his fault." Selphie said quietly.

"What?"

"Marcus. He didn't tell the AI to kill us. It's not his fault." Said Selphie. "Rinoa and Squall are always fighting. She can't blame him for everything. It isn't fair."

"He's Centran." Quistis answered. "Not even human. Just a machine, made to kill anyone, destroy anything."

"He didn't ask to be Centran." Selphie murmured. "He didn't want to be this way."

"But that's what he is." Quistis quickly left the cockpit, understanding why Squall had always hated giving pep talks.

* * *

"Is anyone following us?" Warren asked the driver.

"No, Sir. But what if we're attacked without warning?"

"Impossible." Warren smirked. "Esthar are too slow and stupid to find us, and even Seed would need a miracle to know our location. And even if they did, Squall Leonhart commands Seed, and our employer knows his every move. We've caught them by surprise, and they don't know what we're doing, or who we work for. He'll want more information. As long as Squall's in charge, they'd never launch an all out attack this early."

"I don't think Squall's in charge any more, Sir."

"What?"

The driver pointed out of the window.

Warren looked, and saw an enormous Red Dragon diving out of the sky towards them.

For a second, there was nothing but terror. Then his senses cleared, and he saw it wasn't a dragon, but a Battle Cruiser, state of the art and bristling with armaments.

"The Ragnarok…" He breathed, grabbing the comm. His boss had warned him of the ship, one of Seed's greatest weapons. "Evasive action! Maximum security around the Centran, shoot to kill any intruders! Max, you and your men open fire with everything you have! Destroy the Ragnarok!"

* * *

"We got them!" Selphie's voice came through the comm as the Ragnarok cargo bay door slid open. Irvine took aim, glad he hadn't worn the harness like Quistis had been moaning about. A sniper had to move his arms.

There was something about the situation that seemed weird, though, and he finally figured out what it was. For once, everything was going according to plan, with no surprises. But something _always_ went wrong on a mission. This wasn't normal.

Then he saw a panel slide open, to reveal two men carrying a rocket launcher.

_Damn!_ Irvine put a hole through the first man's head. "Step on it, Sefie! They're aiming a rocket!" As Irvine reloaded, a third man replaced the first, aiming straight for the Ragnarok.

_Too late…_

Then the Ragnarok banked sharp left. The rocket fired, roaring through the air the ship had occupied only a second before. Irvine's shot missed as he tumbled forward, arms flailing desperately, but only grabbing air.

Irvine's last thoughts as he fell out of the cargo bay door were _Yep. Everything messed up and back to normal._

* * *

"Thanks, Irvy!" Selphie janked the steering column back so it was level.

The comm was silent. "Irvy?"

Quistis looked back at where Irvine had been. He wasn't there. But his harness was. And it was empty.

Her mind froze solid.

_You don't wear it, you'll fall out of the shuttle…_ Of all the things to be right about, why did it have to be this?

"Irvy?" Selphie shouted into her comm. "You okay?" She turned to Quistis. "Is he okay?"

Quistis imagined what could happen; Selphie screaming in pain and loss when she knew Irvine was dead, Selphie losing control, crashing the Ragnarok and killing them all.

"He's fine." She lied. "Something wrong with his comm. Just keep flying."

"But…"

"Focus on the mission, Selphie! They could fire another…" An explosion rocked the Ragnarok, which went into a dive. Selphie yanked on the controls, and deafening alarms went off all over the ship as it juddered, before tilting back upwards slightly.

"What happened?" Quistis shouted over the alarms.

"Stabilisers took a hit! I can't keep her steady!"

"What about the auto-repair?"

"Not enough time!" Selphie struggled with the controls, but it wasn't enough. "We're coming down too fast!"

The Ragnarok lurched again, and Quistis felt her stomach match it. "Get us over the water. We'll have to bail out!"

"She isn't responding, Quisty! I can't control her!"

Quistis resisted the impulse to argue, knowing it wouldn't help, but not knowing what would.

Then she saw Rinoa, crouching with both hands on the metal floor, waves of magic pulsing between her fingertips. Quistis almost asked what she was doing, but kept quiet, not wanting to disturb her.

Magic pulsed and flowed through the hull of the Ragnarok, and the ship suddenly soared upwards.

"We got it back!" Selphie squealed, correcting their course and holding the ship level.

"The stabilisers are repaired?" Quistis saw Rinoa still crouching, still focused on her magic.

"No." Selphie looked at the panels. "That'll take a while. Rinny's just keeping the Ragnarok steady."

"How long before repairs are complete?"

"Ten minutes, maybe." Selphie shrugged. "But we're still flying!"

_Irvine's dead, Selphie piloting, and Rinoa's stuck here _Quistis thought. _No backup. I'm all there is._

* * *

For the first time ever, Irvine was grateful for Quistis nagging at him. He'd never wear a harness while shooting people, but if she hadn't kept going on and on about safety, he wouldn't have tied the safety rope to his leg.

Which led to another first time ever, dangling upside down from the Ragnarok. His comm device had fallen off, but he still had the most important things – his hat, and his gun. He yanked on the cord on his wrist, pulling the rifle down, or up, into his hands.

There was an explosion, and the Ragnarok was coming down. Irvine traced the shot, a man with a grenade pistol, and aimed.

His head was about to smack into the road in several seconds, but that didn't matter to Irvine. There was just him, his gun, and the target. Nothing else.

The man raised the pistol for a second shot, and Irvine put a bullet through his head. Irvine reloaded, looking for the rocket launcher. _He's gonna reload…_

But he already had. The guy with the rocket launcher was aiming for the Ragnarok, and a guy beside him was aiming a submachine gun for Irvine.

_Great._ Two targets, only time for one shot. Shoot the guy with the gun and save your life, but the Ragnarok would be hit with a rocket, killing you anyway and everyone else with it. Pointless. Seed rules would be to shoot the guy with the launcher, saving your team but sacrificing your life, and dying like a hero.

But Irvine didn't do heroics, and he never played by the rules. He adjusted his aim, and fired.

His aim was perfect, the bullet sailing inside the muzzle of the rocket launcher. His armour-piercing rounds were the best available, able to drill through solid metal with ease.

And the rocket inside the launcher was a solid metal case, around a high explosive charge.

As the launcher was about to fire, the rocket detonated. The man holding the launcher vanished instantly in the explosion, the gunman next to him consumed in the resulting fireball an instant later. The back of the carriage was blown apart, charred corpses tumbling out onto the road.

A body fell with arms outstretched, making Irvine wonder if they were still alive. Then the body smashed through the windscreen of the large jeep following the truck, effectively deciding the issue.

Reasoning any other targets would be in hiding for a bit, he started climbing back up the rope to the Ragnarok. He didn't want to be left hanging.

* * *

Quistis strapped herself into the harness, and checked her weapons. Whip, Guardian Force Ifrit, explosive charges, smoke grenades, submachine gun, and long knife. All present and correct. No backup, but that couldn't be helped.

_No battle plan survives contact with the enemy._

"All set, Selphie. Lower me down." She stepped out of the cargo bay door, and quickly descended. She focused her mind on the mission, ignoring all distractions, as a Seed should.

Then she saw Irvine, who waved at her with a grin as he climbed back up to the Ragnarok. _How did he…?_

"Quisty!" She was on the roof of the first carriage, and Selphie was yelling in her comm. "Quisty, you zoned out or something? You gotta release the harness!"

"I know!" She growled. _That bastard…_

She released the harness, then armed an explosive charge, making it magnetic. She threw it against the rear wall of the carriage, and it stuck fast.

_Entrance to Brute's carriage achieved._

Quistis armed the second charge, then threw it against the passage between the carriages.

_Troops in second carriage disabled._

"Rinoa?" She hoped the sorceress could still spare enough magic to sense their target. "Where's Brute?"

"Crouching on the far side of the carriage."

"Tell me the moment he moves." She pressed both detonators simultaneously.

The explosions were impressive, blowing a large hole in the first carriage wall and leaving the passage to the second a heap of charred metal. A hail of bullets flew out of the hole in the first carriage, fired in panic, and she waited.

The guns went silent, and Quistis threw in a smoke grenade through the hole.

More gunfire. Quistis swung herself down by the side of the hole and waited. The gunfire went silent.

She took out her submachine gun, but continued to wait. A few more shots were fired, then silence again. "Rinoa?"

"Clear."

Quistis leaned across, and sprayed the entire carriage with automatic fire at head height. She heard the screams, the _thud_ of bodies collapsing to the metal floor.

She leaned back, taking cover as the few survivors returned fire, then jumped inside the carriage, firing at head height before rolling and coming up in a crouch next to a dead body. She rushed forward, running into someone standing up. She fired a burst, and he fell. She kept moving as bullets zipped past, but they were aimed at the noise she'd made, and missed.

Quistis ran to the far wall. The smoke would soon clear, and she had to be quick. _Where is he?_

She heard the faint rattle of chains close to her left, and moved towards it. Her hands gripped an arm, and the chain around it. Marcus tensed, and Quistis reached for her gun, thinking he was about to attack her. But Marcus just moved his arm to the side, stretching the chain tight, making it easier to break.

Quistis cast a fire spell on the chains, thrusting her long knife through the links for added leverage. This shouldn't take long. Marcus was strong enough to…

She saw the sword cutting out of the smoke just in time, and ducked. With no time to uncoil her whip, she went for her gun, but her assailant knocked it out of her hand then kicked her in the stomach.

She fell back, her hand grabbing around a chain. She summoned her magic again as her attacker appeared out of the smoke, sending intense heat through the metal as she sent a bolt of fire towards her enemy.

A faint green light surrounded her attacker, the flames scattering against it before fading away. Quistis glanced at the chain she'd held, and saw it was holding Marcus's legs to the floor. _Not much good, even if he can break it…_

Her attacker was grinning. "I'm shielded against magic, bitch. You can't hurt…" A snap of heated metal drew his attention, then two legs chained together slammed into his chest.

Ribs shattered, and the man fell to his knees. Quistis knew that was a mistake, and was proved right when the legs wrapped around the man's neck, and squeezed. The man choked, pulling desperately to free himself, but then the legs twisted, and his neck snapped.

Quistis dived for the body, searching for the keys. Finding them, she turned to face Marcus, and gasped.

The Centran's upper body was a mass of blood, and most of the pale skin had been torn off his face. Gory pieces of flesh littered the floor.

Marcus looked at her, his midnight eyes strangely calm. "Now my arms."

_How can he be so calm?_ Quistis freed him quickly, remembering when Squall had been tortured at Galbadia prison. Squall was one of the toughest Seeds in Garden, but even he'd needed a few minutes rest after they release him. Marcus was in far worse shape, and still ready to kill. "You okay?"

"I still function." He stretched once, his wounds dripping blood as they cracked open, and nodded towards the body.

_Of course. Killing's all he does…_

* * *

Irvine climbed into the Rangarok, wondering why Quistis was on her own, and hoping Rinoa hadn't gone mental. "Sefie?"

No answer. He could see Rinoa doing some magicky thing to the Rangarok, but Selphie looked frantic, stabbing at buttons even faster than her usual hyperactive self.

"Selphie, darlin'! What's up?" The roar of the engines drowned out his voice, but she should be able to hear him over the comm…

_Oh, yeah._ Irvine found a replacement comm, tuned it to the coded Seed frequency, raised the volume, and put it to his ear.

"IRVY!" The deafening howl shoved an ice pick through his brain.

"AHHH!" Irvine turned the volume back down. "Sefie! Not so loud, dammit!"

"Irvy?" Selphie turned round, and he saw she'd been crying. "You're okay?"

"I was!" Irvine could feel his head splitting. "You know I love it when you scream my name, gorgeous, but this really ain't the time, yeah?"

"Why you…" Selphie flushed red. "You disappeared! Quistis was lying to me, and…" Her voice got even louder. "I thought you were dead!" She was screaming now. "Why didn't you answer me?"

"What with?" Irvine turned the volume down further. "I lost my comm when I fell out."

"You fell out?" Irvine wondered if the volume was low enough.

"Hey, me and the Ragnarok just went fishing. I was the bait." He reloaded his rifle. "Why's Rin still here?"

"She's keeping the Ragnarok flying!" An alarm sounded on the control panel, and Selphie beat it with her fists until the wailing stopped. "They hit the stabilisers!"

"And thanks to me, they didn't hit 'em twice." Irvine aimed the rifle at the lorry, looking for targets. "But you can show your appreciation later. What's Quistis up to?"

"She's released Marcus."

"Whoah!" Irvine whistled. "He's loose, he's mad, and he's got lots of people to take it out on. Glad I'm not in their shoes."

"But she says he's severely injured! They tortured him! He'll be weak."

"Don't think he does weak, Sefie. Guy like that's only ever one of two things. Ready to kill, or dead."

* * *

Quistis heard the sound of gunfire, and ducked behind a crate. Marcus followed, returning fire with a pistol he'd taken from his first kill, but his shots missed. Quistis fired, killing one, then heard a sound close by.

Her gun swung around fast, but Marcus lashed out faster, the heavy chain still attached to his wrist as weightless as a silk scarf. A man was just visible in the smoke when the chain caught him in the face.

Quistis fired a quick burst, but hit nothing. Marcus quickly dragged the body behind the crate, then pointed behind them.

Quistis looked, and saw a faint depression in the wall. Just like the hidden doorways in the Centran base.

* * *

In the driver compartment, Warren cursed. The Seed were supposed to be careful planners, not launching a reckless all out attack. The boss had got it wrong.

Well, the boss would pay. They had a contract, but contracts were easily broken by death, as Warren had proven several times before.

But he couldn't let Brute join with Seed. Brute would identify him, and then Seed would hunt him down, wherever he tried to hide. Brute had to die.

Warren drew a machine pistol, and opened up the hidden passage to the first carriage. He crawled through, careful not to make a sound.

Reaching the other door, he slid it open silently, and looked through. A woman with blonde hair was several feet away with her back to him.

Warren remembered what his boss had told him about the Seeds. _Quistis Trepe. One of the team that defeated Ultimecia. Strategist, planner, uses a barbed whip and magic in combat, and is good with both._ He extended his machine pistol…

A hand locked around his wrist, pulling him out of the passageway with a force that nearly tore his arm off. Before Warren could fire, his wrist was broken, his gun torn from his grasp.

The cold muzzle of a pistol pressed between his eyes. He looked up, and saw Brute.

"You didn't kill me earlier." Brute said. "That was stupid."

Warren was forced to agree.

Then Brute pulled the trigger, and Warren was nothing at all.

* * *

Quistis ducked behind the crate as her opponent fired back. This was taking too long. She had to finish this now.

She pulled the body beside her, and positioned it ready. _This had better work…_ She shoved the body upright and into the open.

Quistis looked over the top of the crate a second later, as a burst of automatic gunfire caught the corpse in the chest. Her target just had time to realise he'd been tricked into breaking cover, then Quistis fired her submachine gun in his face.

"Effective." Marcus stated from behind her. Quistis turned, to see him taking a machine pistol from a corpse.

"Their leader." He indicated.

"Good." Quistis didn't like the way he was waving his pistol. "And us?"

"Us?" Marcus looked blank.

"You tried to kill me."

"Likewise." Marcus held his right hand up, showing the scar tissue in his palm.

"You attacked us without reason." Quistis pressed.

"I believed you were a threat to her. I was wrong."

"So what now?"

"She has made her wishes clear." Marcus tilted his head in a strange gesture. "She doesn't want you hurt. I won't attack again. I can't."

Now Quistis was even more confused. She'd thought someone ordered him to protect Ellone, but Ellone being the one in command? It didn't make sense…

Ellone had power over time, the ability to send people into visions of the past, but Marcus didn't seem to want anything from Ellone, except to obey her every command. But why? Apart from her unique ability, she was ordinary, having no military training or political power.

But now a Centran killing machine was ready to kill for her, die to protect her, do whatever she wanted. Ellone promised she knew nothing about it, and she wouldn't have lied about this. It wasn't about her stepfather, President Laguna of Esthar, or her stepbrother, Commander Squall of Garden, as Marcus hadn't shown any concern for either. But before Squall killed her, Sorceress Ultimecia had been hunting Ellone for years. Where was Marcus then? And why appear now, when apart from the Adelists, Ellone wasn't in danger?

_Too many questions._ "Then let's go. We need to get on the roof."

"Confirmed."

Quistis ran towards the exit hole. "Selphie?" She spoke into the comm. "We're clear. Get ready for pickup once we're topside."

"Gotcha, Quisty!"

She climbed up, Marcus right behind her. Only a few more steps, and…

"Quisty!" A gunshot rang out as Irvine voice's barked. "You got company!"

She looked back, and saw mercenaries breaking out of the second carriage, swarming towards her.

One fell, shot through the head by Irvine. He kept firing, killing with every shot, but there were too many. "Sefie! We need more firepower!"

"She's not steady enough!" Selphie lowered two safety harnesses from the cargo door. "I can hardly keep her flying!"

Quistis swung up onto the roof, then knelt to pull Marcus up after her, casting Protection spells on the both of them. That would stop a few bullets, but it wouldn't last long.

A volley of gunfire hit the Ragnarok, forcing Irvine to take cover as the craft veered erratically. Marcus emptied his machine pistol at the mercenaries as Quistis took out her last explosive charge – she'd always believed in carrying a spare – threw it in front of the gunmen, and pressed the detonator.

The explosion blew the mercenaries apart. Quistis backed away to the front of the carriage, knowing more were coming. "Selphie! It's time to go!"

"But she's taking too much damage! Even Rin's hardly keeping her steady!"

"Selphie, we'll be taking too much damage if we don't get out of here! Just…" She dived as bolts of magical fire flew past her. The harnesses were hit, consumed by flames in an instant.

Quistis might have panicked that their only escape had been blocked, but the mercenaries were about to reach them. Quistis fired, but only managed two bursts before her gun ran empty. She threw it down, readying her whip while casting Fire spells with her other hand.

She killed two, then one got past and went for Marcus. Quistis cast an Ice spell on the floor as another mercenary rushed forward, causing him to slip on the ice and fall off the carriage.

More men were climbing up. "We need to knock them off!" She shouted in the comm, but there was no answer.

There was a scream behind her, and she turned to see Marcus lifting the mercenary above his head. The Centran snarled, throwing the body into the soldiers, knocking them all off the carriage roof.

Marcus fell to his knees, coughing blood. "What's wrong?" Quistis asked.

"Not long now…" He didn't sound worried. "Too much damage…"

And if he died, so did Squall, Zell, and Seifer. They had to finish this now. Quistis checked the other mercenaries were still some distance away, then concentrated, summoning Ifrit, the Guardian Force of Fire.

A large muscular man leapt between the carriages, rushing at Quistis with a massive sword, to stop her before she could complete the summoning.

Marcus blocked his way, sweating heavily. "Max." He spat blood. "You will die now." Quistis watched mutely from her summoning trance, unable to help. Marcus was tired, and by human standards should be almost dead by now, and Max was bigger and more muscular. But Marcus was a GEC, a Centran war machine made to be unbeatable in the field of battle.

For the first time ever, she hoped the Centrans had been right.

"Yeah?" Max grinned. "Funny. You look weak, Centran. You can't even stand without shaking, and I'm a born killer."

"Birth is an accident." Marcus was calm. "I was designed to kill. You are not my equal."

"Equal to you?" Max spat in Brute's face, hefting his sword. "I'm better. And I've got the weapon."

Max moved impressively fast for someone his size, swinging low to cut Marcus in half. But Marcus was faster still, jumping over the blade to kick Max in the face. The Centran rushed forward as he landed, knocking Max back with a flurry of punches.

Max bellowed in rage, and headbutted Marcus before stabbing for his throat. Marcus rolled to the left, sweeping Max's legs out from under him. Max crashed into Marcus as he fell, taking the Centran down with him. Both of them sprang to their feet, grabbing the sword, pushing the blade against each other.

The blade slowly moved towards Max. The man roared in disbelief. "You can't!"

"I can." Marcus sneered, pushing the blade further.

Max howled in rage, muscles bulging, and the blade stopped. Then it began moving back towards Marcus.

Marcus snarled, but the blade kept moving towards him. "You can't stop me, freak!" Max bellowed. "I told you! I got the weapon!"

Marcus shifted his balance, and let go of the sword. The blade nicked his shoulder as it fell, cutting deep into the metal floor and holding fast. Max screamed in rage, forgetting his enemy for a moment as he tried to pull the sword free.

Giving Marcus enough time to grab Max above the neck, and twist.

Max's eyes widened, then his neck snapped. Marcus let go of the body, and it slumped to the floor. "I am the weapon."

A demonic beast materialized above Quistis, wreathed in flames, sparks crackling from the twin horns from its head. Ifrit roared, a blazing inferno gathering in its hand. Ifrit lifted the fireball high, then threw it at the second carriage.

The carriage exploded sky high, a burning hulk of flames flying into the air before crashing down on the road in pieces. Burning shrapnel flew past, one hitting a thick rope dangling from the Rangarok.

"Quisty!" Selphie shouted through the comm. "Grab on."

"You first!" Quistis ordered Marcus.

The Centran looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because more lives depend on you! Move it!"

Marcus jumped, catching the smouldering rope. Quistis saw the fibres began to tear under his weight. "Hurry!"

He climbed fast, a body length of rope snapping off just as he climbed past it. Quistis studied the rope, knowing it was too high for her to jump. "Selphie! You have to go lower!"

"I can't! Rin's at her limit! Go any lower, we're gonna crash!"

"Then lower another rope!"

"We don't have one!"

Quistis cursed. Marcus looked down, then stopped climbing. Quistis looked back.

Marcus suddenly slid down the rope, gripping the end of it tight with his legs, then letting go with his hands.

His body flipped upside down, and his midnight eyes met with Quistis. "Jump."

Quistis hesitated. He'd tried to kill her days before, and there was a slim chance she could climb to the driver compartment and take control of the lorry. Could she trust him? Could she trust a Centran killing machine to save her life?

"I was insane." Marcus stated in his cold voice. "I have recovered. We were both protecting her. We are not enemies, as long as you let the past stay dead."

_The past…_ Centra. It had to be.

The last sentence decided her. A liar would promise you anything, because they never kept their word, so it didn't matter. Marcus was setting conditions, knowing if she tried to bring back the Centran Empire, he'd have to kill her.

"Done." Quistis ran forward. On her last step, the carriage shook, juddering sideways. She was too close to the edge to stop, so she leapt, hoping she was close enough.

She wasn't. She fell through the air just past Marcus, closing her eyes, knowing that she was about to die, but that Squall and the others would be safe.

Something grabbed her arm, pulling it tight. She opened her eyes.

Marcus had hold of her wrist with both arms, snarling in pain as he tried to pull her up, fresh blood dripping from his arms.

Quistis would have tried a Cure spell, but she knew that healing the wounds wouldn't help. Fatigue and muscle damage was the problem, and they couldn't be cured so easily.

Marcus gasped, and his arms started to tremble. That was a bad sign. _So close…_

Marcus closed his eyes, muttering something. Quistis struggled to listen.

"Existence is pain." He said. "Existence is pain. Existence is…"

Then he screamed, and kept on screaming as he pulled her up. She reached out, the rope coming closer and closer.

She took hold, sighing in relief. Then she climbed upwards, looking down at Marcus. He gasped for breath for a few seconds, then started to climb.

"Selphie, we're safe. Pull away. Head for the Centran base."

The Ragnarok turned, pulling away from the road to fly across the ocean. The turrets on the aircraft turned towards the lorry.

The guns opened fire, showering the lorry and its remaining carriage with bullets. "Booyaka!" Selphie yelled one of her favourite made-up words as the lorry exploded.

Quistis watched the detonation as they flew away, feeling satisfied. They'd made it. Once on board, Marcus would make the call to the Centran base and set Squall, Zell and Seifer free. Then they would discover the connection between Marcus and Ellone, and everything would be all right.

_**Silly Quistis. That sounds too good to be true, and guess what… it is! Get ready for a race for the finish line, coming up in the next chapter, **__**Counting Down**__**! On your marks…**_


	8. Counting Down

_**Awww, no reviews? Shame… And while we're on the subject, welcome to Yunie91, the latest reviewer of our merry band. Hope you like it here. Now, let's get started with someone who may be an asshole, but does have his reasons for being that way…**_

Chapter 8: Counting Down

The first thing Squall saw was the timer. The first thing he heard was the artificial voice, telling him the timer was counting down to his execution.

As mornings went, it was probably his worst. As for his best morning, that was obvious. It was after the night of the victory celebrations, when they'd killed Ultimecia.

It wasn't because they'd killed the sorceress, although stopping every living thing from vanishing into non-existence had felt pretty good. It wasn't because they'd saved the world and stopped the Sorceress War, although that was quite a relief, knowing that you could wake up without worrying that swarms of high explosive missiles were being fired at you. And it certainly wasn't because of the world media hailing him as the hero of the age, because he'd always hated that.

No, it was because of Rinoa. He'd been beside her, and for the first time in his life, he hadn't woken up alone. And he suddenly realised what he'd been missing.

And for the first time ever, he'd been happy and content, just to be there. Not to do anything in particular, not to work, or train, or spar. Just drifting between dreams and reality, with an angel at his side. He could have stayed there forever, if Irvine hadn't burst in the door five minutes later, wearing a traffic cone and shouting through a megaphone. And even then, he hadn't minded all that much.

If only things could have stayed that way… But they hadn't. Nothing lasted, nothing was permanent. Love least of all.

It had started with a nightmare. He'd dreamed of enjoying life for the first time since he could remember, just being with Rinoa, admitting how much she meant to him.

And then, out of nowhere, they were attacked, enemy soldiers appearing out of nowhere and cutting down Rinoa in a hail of gunfire in the first few seconds. Squall went berserk, killing and butchering until he was the only one alive.

Then he'd tried to help Rinoa, but he was too late, too late to do anything but hold her, and watch her die in his arms. And as she breathed her last, he realised it was all his fault. If he'd been paying attention to his work, he would have seen this coming. If he hadn't been so careless, he would have been able to protect her.

But he'd been lazy, having fun instead of doing his job, and she'd paid the price. She'd died, because he'd failed her.

And Squall woke up screaming.

Rinoa hadn't been angry at being woken up, only concerned. She'd asked him what was wrong, but he just said it was nothing, turned away, and pretended to go back to sleep. He'd lied to her, and even worse, she _knew_ he'd been lying. He couldn't hide that from her.

But she hadn't let on, and eventually went back to sleep herself. Squall didn't. He kept remembering what happened, what would happen if this life continued. He was the Commander of Balamb Garden. Any distractions from that, any life outside that, and people would die. People he loved. Because of him.

And after that, everything had started falling apart.

And whatever he did, he couldn't put them back together. He couldn't decide. He was anxious to drive her away, but desperate to keep her close. He couldn't live without her, but being with her meant he couldn't live with himself.

So he kept shifting between the two, breaking up then back together. Switching off and on, like Irvine said. Unable to decide, and hoping something would come up so he wouldn't have to.

Well, he'd got his wish. His gunblade was gone, and his magic and GF were suppressed, like in the Galbadian prison. The bars of his cage were made of a Centran alloy, impossible to damage. And the timer said he had a couple of hours before his execution.

There were many cages in the room, but only two were occupied, with Zell and Seifer. Despite all the times he'd worried about putting Rinoa in danger, she was alive, and safe, with the others. He reassured himself that she wasn't trying something stupid, like trying to rescue him. No, they'd accept his death, and be back with enough heavy artillery to blow this entire base to hell.

_Mission accomplished._

But their last words to each other had been spoken in anger. It didn't matter who was right, he shouldn't have argued with her before a mission. He knew the risks of being a Seed, knew that death could happen anytime, anywhere. He'd been wrong about so many things, and it was far too late to make them right.

_You should have told her you loved her, and now you'll never get the chance._

Crippled with guilt, Squall glared at the timer. Two hours remaining? _Screw that._ _Can't you just kill me now?_

Still, at least things couldn't get any worse.

Then he heard Zell and Seifer wake up, shouting insults at each other, and realised he'd been wrong about that, too.

* * *

Quistis climbed into the Ragnarok, then extended a hand to Marcus, pulling him up. "Selphie! Maximum speed to the Centran base!"

"Gotcha!" The engines roared, and Quistis pulled the bay door shut. She almost allowed herself to relax, then saw Rinoa rushing towards Marcus as the Centran got to his feet.

"Call it!" Rinoa threw a communicator at Marcus, which hit him and fell to the floor. "NOW!"

"What?"

"Your AI captured Squall!" Rinoa screamed. "It's going to kill him!"

Realization dawned on the Centran's face. "Delayed execution of all unauthorized intruders. Default security settings. I never switched them off."

"I KNOW!" Magic surrounded Rinoa, the sorceress dangerously close to breaking point. "Tell it to free him! Free them all!"

Marcus looked at the communicator, then back at Rinoa. "No."

A lightning storm exploded into Marcus as his body shot backwards, sending him flying high in the air. His body slammed into the rear wall of the Ragnarok, pinned there by Rinoa's will. The sorceress screamed in rage as pulses of electrical energy surged through Marcus, his body writhing in pain.

"Rinoa! Stop!" Quistis ordered. "You're going to kill him!"

"He's letting Squall die!" Rinoa snarled. "He deserves it!"

"Rinny?" Selphie came out of the cockpit. "Don't do this. When you became a sorceress, people believed you'd become a monster, but we knew it wouldn't change you. You're a good person Rinny. You always were. You're better than this." Selphie held out her hand. "Please?"

Rinoa blinked, the darkness in her eyes fading. She waved her hand, and Marcus fell off the wall face first. "Call the base. NOW!"

"Squall's dead if you don't, Marcus." Quistis told the Centran, hoping he'd listen better to her.

Marcus struggled to push his head up, then collapsed again, his face pounding into the floor. He tried again, slowly getting up on his hands and knees. "He's dead if I do. My Biosignature…" He coughed up blood.

"Bio what?" Irvine asked.

"Biosignatures!" Sephie exclaimed. "Of course! They're top security in Esthar! They confirm your identity by how you move, how you speak, even your body temperature! That's why Marcus can't free Squall! The AI can't confirm his identity from a phone call!"

"Wait." Said Quistis. "What do you mean, Squall's dead if you call the base?"

"The AI will match my voiceprint, but not my identity." Said Marcus. "A partial confirmation indicates an attempt to free the captives, and a possible security breach. The risk will be eliminated by immediate execution of all captives."

"Oh my Hyne…" Quistis breathed. "We almost…"

"He's lying!" Rinoa shouted. "I don't trust him!"

"I am not worthy of trust." Marcus intoned. "But however you torture me, I will not call the base. I will not kill upon your word."

"So how do we release them?" Quistis asked.

"I must be in the base to give the command. There's no other way."

Quistis checked her stopwatch. "Just under two hours left. Selphie, how far away is the base?"

"Just under two hours."

"Can't you go faster?" It wasn't something Quistis ever thought she'd ask Selphie.

"She's at full speed!" Selphie punched the metal door. "And it's not enough!" She sank to her knees. "It's not enough…"

* * *

"Why aren't we out looking for him?" Laguna slammed his fist on the desk in frustration.

"Because we don't know where he is." Kiros pointed out.

"That's why we need to look! We can still make a start, right?"

Ward made a gesture, and Kiros translated. "Ward says yes, we could, and in which continent would you like to start looking first?"

Ellone ran in. "Have they found him?"

"No." Laguna shook his head.

"But…" Ellone looked scared. "He can't be…"

"He isn't." Laguna tried to sound reassuring. "We'll find him, Elle. Any second now, we'll get a call…" The videophone rang, and the face of General Estoc appeared on the monitor.

Laguna answered it. "Estoc? You found Brute?"

"I believe so, Sir. Eyewitness reports have come from the intercontinental road between Esthar and Galbadia. A large truck with two carriages has been spotted…"

"Has Brute been sighted aboard?" Laguna asked.

"No Sir, but if…"

"So what good is that?" Laguna sighed. "It's a busy road, Estoc! Lots of trucks use it!"

"BUT if you'd let me finish, Sir." Estoc continued, and Laguna shut up. "The truck was attacked by the Ragnarok, and destroyed."

"Great!" Laguna cheered. "Squall's setting the world on fire, just like his old man!" Kiros and Ward shook their heads.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet, Sir." Estoc interjected. "The reports are extremely disturbing."

"What?" Ellone moved closer to the videophone. "Was someone hurt? Was Brute killed?"

"No, Brute escaped his captors. Eyewitnesses saw a blood-soaked 'vampire', obviously an exaggeration, throwing people off the lorry before escaping after a demon from hell, presumably a Guardian Force, blew up the rear carriage. We've also confirmed a blonde woman, Quistis, escaping with Brute into the Ragnarok, and a cowboy sniper, Irvine."

"Yeah?" Laguna didn't seem worried. "And?"

"Sir, only two Seeds were involved!" Said Estoc. "Three if you count Selphie, who we can assume was piloting the Ragnarok. That leaves Squall, Rinoa, Zell and Seifer all unaccounted for, while Quistis boarded the lorry _alone_ to find Brute!"

"She's not that reckless." Said Kiros.

"Exactly." Estoc nodded. "All the information we have on Quistis Trepe shows her to be an extremely composed and level-headed young woman. If anything, she's _too_ cautious. But this was either a reckless act, or a desperate one." He paused. "And we all know she isn't reckless."

"Something happened." Ellone murmured. "Something bad."

"Then it's time we found out what!" Laguna leapt up. "Everyone in the presidential jet!"

* * *

"Last one…" Murmured Quistis, casting another Cure spell on Marcus, watching the wounds slowly close. Despite his obvious pain, he'd remained perfectly calm, and thanked her politely.

Selphie was still worried, though. When Quistis had started healing Marcus, she'd seen the look on his face. The Centran had been totally surprised, caught completely off guard. Just because they'd been concerned about him.

Selphie had met some weird people, but this guy went straight to the top of the list. Even Squall had been easier to figure out…

"We have to go FASTER!" Rinoa screamed.

"We can't, Rinny!" Said Selphie. "The Ragnarok's almost falling apart already!"

Rinoa scowled, turning to Marcus. Since recovering from her attack, the Centran had sat silently on the floor, staring at nothing. "If Squall dies, I'll kill you."

"Understood." The emotionless voice could have been discussing the weather.

"I mean it!" Rinoa was getting mad at the lack of response. "If you can't save him, your life ends!"

"There is no life." Marcus turned, his dark eyes dull and lifeless. "There is only existence."

"What?" Selphie protested. "That's crazy! We're alive!"

"You are human." Marcus showed no emotion. "You are alive. I am GEC. I only exist."

"But…" Selphie began to argue, then thought of something else. "What does GEC mean?"

"Genetically Enhanced Centran." Said Marcus. "We were to be the first of the new race, the next stage of evolution."

"An entire race?" Said Quistis. "But why did the record found in the Centra Ruins only mention one GEC, if there was an army?"

"We were not an army." Marcus intoned. "Each was different, all were alone. What did this record say?"

"That the GEC killed to exist, and existed only to kill."

"Then it talked of me. Killing was my purpose."

"So you're… what? A war machine?" Selphie exclaimed. "What about the other GECs?"

"Each GEC was designed for a specific purpose of the Centran Empire. Each GEC was given enhanced abilities in the fields their purpose required, to make them better for the position chosen for them. Each GEC was taught only what they needed, trained endlessly only in the skills they required. We were focused, sharpened, given just one reason for our existence."

"Man, that sucks!" Selphie couldn't imagine a worse fate. "So they made you into a perfect killer. That's why you're so…"

"Inhuman." Marcus nodded. "Yes."

"Hey, don't be so negative!" Selphie put a hand on the Centran's shoulder. "At least you did okay out of it."

Marcus turned towards her, his eyes glinting. "I did… okay?"

"Yeah? I mean…" Selphie ignored the creepy look on his face, and carried on. "It's bad that they made you into a perfect killer, but… That made you really strong, and fast, and powerful…" Marcus's eyes shone like black diamonds, scaring her considerably, causing her voice to tail off. "Err… So it's good, right?"

"Good?" The Centran exploded in fury. Selphie tried to cast a spell as she saw Irvine draw his shotgun, knowing they were too late, that Marcus would probably kill her before anyone could stop him.

A second passed. She blinked.

Marcus shook with rage, hands rigid like claws as he lowered them, reining in his anger. Selphie began to sigh in relief, but stopped abruptly when Marcus leaned his face towards hers.

"They made me this way to make me a perfect killer. You know the things they gave me." Their faces almost touched. "But what… do you think… they took AWAY?" He screamed the last word at her.

"But…" Selphie suddenly realised. The horror stories about Centran biotech, the nightmares they'd caused her as a child, they all came flooding back. _They turned humans into monsters…_ "They couldn't!"

"They could." The anger passed, he was emotionless again, his eyes a dull matt black. "They did."

"But they didn't have the right!"

"Right?" Marcus sneered. "There was no 'right' in the Centran Empire! The Emperor wished it, so it was done!"

"So what did they take away?" Quistis asked, looking uneasy but still curious.

"Everything a killer did not require. Needs, wants, desires, most emotions, they were distractions from my purpose, so they were removed. They left anger, because it was useful. They left hatred, because it gave me purpose. And they left vengeance." His lips curled in a parody of a smirk. "Their mistake."

Selphie watched him, feeling nauseous. She enjoyed the thrill of battle, the exhilaration of combat with monsters, but she'd never enjoyed killing actual people. She did it easily enough, because they were trying to kill her, but she never thought about it much. To remember killing, to actually take pleasure in the memory… This guy was _sick_.

But then again… Was it his fault? They'd made him into a monster whose only joy came from killing. Was it so wrong for him to take what little comfort he could, however cold it might be?

She noticed Irvine staring at her, looking worried. Then he smirked. "Shouldn't get moody, Marcus. You wanna be all dashing and heroic for Ellone, remember?"

"Who?" Marcus looked blank.

Everyone stared at the Centran, and Irvine was the first to break the silence. "You gotta be kidding me! All that for a girl, and you don't even know her name?"

"Ellone…" Said Marcus. "I heard that name before… But where?"

"You're saying you don't know her?" Quistis demanded. "You destroyed an army, you almost died, you turned on us, all for her, and you don't even know who she is?"

"Is that her name?" For the first time ever, Marcus almost looked at peace. "Ellone… It suits her…"

"You know her." Selphie pressed. _He's more than a monster. He has to be._ "What does she mean to you?"

"I told her." Marcus stared into nothing. "Told her I wasn't good enough. Ego sum non dignus. I am not worthy! Why couldn't she understand? All I do is kill! Why me, Melissa? I could never be trusted. I could never be worthy!" He snarled, punching the floor of the Ragnarok, the metal buckling against his rage. "And I betrayed her. Betrayed them all! I am worthy of nothing! Nothing at all!"

Selphie felt sorry for him, but if he went psycho again…

_Hey!_ _Melissa?_ "Who's Melis…" Selphie began, than an alarm sounded in the cockpit. "Fifteen minutes left! Dammit…"

"We gonna make it, Sefie?" Irvine asked.

"We can't…" Selphie choked. "Maybe a minute left, after we land. We won't make it."

"We must!" Rinoa snapped. "We have to!"

"I'm sorry, Rin, I really am…" Selphie felt the tears coming through. "But we can't! We're too late"

"You did your best, Sefie." Irvine curled an arm round her shoulder, pulling her towards him. "Not your fault."

"Yes it is!" Selphie buried her head in his chest. "I should have been faster! There should have been someone else to fly the Ragnarok! A real pilot, instead of me…"

"No way!" Irvine looked and sounded more serious than she'd ever seen him before. "You're the best, and you did everything you could. You know that. If you try something, and it don't work, then nobody else could even try."

"But…" She felt the tears start, and didn't even try to stop them.

"No buts. You're my little Sefie, and you can't be stopped. Not by the entire Galbadian army, not by a homicidal sorceress about to destroy the universe, not by anyone or anything. Believe it."

"But the Ragnarok isn't fast enough!" Yelled Selphie.

"Then we must go faster." Marcus jumped to his feet.

Selphie watched him, her tears forgotten. Even covered in blood and electrical burns, the Centran didn't look defeated. And the look on his face made it doubtful he even knew the meaning of the word.

"Time is our enemy." He continued. "Let battle commence." He pointed to Selphie. "Why must you land?"

"What do you mean, why?" Had the Centran lost his mind? "We have to get off the Ragnarok to save Squall!"

"Incorrect. Only I need to get inside the base." He turned to Quistis. "Get me a parachute, fly at low altitude, and I can base jump to the ground in seconds."

"Umm…" Selphie fidgeted. "We don't have any."

"What?" Quistis shouted.

"We had to leave Garden in a hurry!" Selphie shouted back. "To save you, remember?"

"Then we make one." Marcus started gathering blankets.

Irvine helped. "Think that'll work?"

"Enough to survive the impact?" Marcus looked up from his work. "Hardly. But this is all we can do, unless one of you can fly."

Everyone looked at Rinoa.

* * *

Zell was repeatedly slamming himself against the bars of his cage. "We gotta get out of here, man!"

Squall had a splitting headache, the kind that usually hurt for hours. Although in this case, as the timer constantly reminded him, it would only last for quarter of an hour. "Zell…"

"We don't escape, we're dead in fifteen minutes, man!"

"Fourteen and a half."

"Squall! Come on! There's gotta be a way!"

"There isn't." Zell gaped at him, mouth open, and Squall sighed. "How do we escape, Zell? We can't overpower the guards, because there aren't any. We can't pick the locks, for the same reason. Our GF's and magic are both inhibited by Centran tech, and we don't have any weapons. And even if we somehow broke out of the cages, we don't know how to find the exit. And finally, we'd be fighting spiderbots every step of the way. Everything clear?"

"You can't be serious, Squall!" Zell punched the metal bars of his cage, and shouted in pain. "We can't give in!"

"Too weak to break the bars, Chickenwuss? I knew it." Seifer grinned, then drew a katana from inside his grey trenchcoat.

_So that's where the Centran sword went. I should've guessed…_

"Watch this!" Seifer swung the sword, almost slicing through one of the bars. He laughed, raising the sword for another strike.

Electricity crackled through the cage. Seifer shuddered as the current surged into him from the metal floor, screaming in agony. Then the electricity cut off, and he collapsed, the Centran sword sliding out of his hands.

A group of spiderbots scuttled towards the cage, grabbed the sword, and took it inside a hatchway, which closed up behind them.

"Idiot." Squall muttered. He knew something like that was going to happen. The AI running the base could hear everything they said, watch everything they did.

He laughed, unable to stop himself. Zell looked at him as if he'd gone insane.

Come to think of it, Zell had a point. Why had he felt so good all of a sudden, when they were about to die?

It wasn't the pressure. Squall had faced death many times before, and kept a rational mind. It wasn't drugs or hallucinogenic gas, as the AI was too efficient to waste resources in doping them when it didn't need to. It wasn't the sight of Seifer getting his ass kicked, although that wasn't bad.

So why had he felt so hopeful all of a sudden?

_A knight and sorceress sworn to each other share an unbreakable bond… When one is threatened, the feelings of the other will strengthen them…_ Rinoa? She was his sorceress, he was her knight. Was it her emotions he was feeling, instead of his own?

But how could she be feeling optimistic? All she could do was blow this entire place up, and killing him, Zell and Seifer in the process. She wouldn't feel good about that… He hoped. No, of course not.

But she couldn't have found a way to break them out of the base, either. They'd need an army, and Rinoa wouldn't have got one big enough this fast, even with Quistis to help.

Hack into the AI and force it to release them? Impossible. Centran computers were far more advanced than the present day, even after eighty years. Even if Rinoa hadn't realised that, Quistis and Selphie both would have.

So what did that leave? Persuading the AI to release them? That was even more ridiculous. The AI was following orders, and wouldn't stop unless another Centran…

_Brute._

_Of course._

"Zell. Rinoa's found Brute. I can feel it."

"What?" Said Zell. "That bond thing? She's in your head right now?"

"No, she isn't. It's just…" Explaining things to Zell was never easy, so Squall didn't bother. "I just know, okay? Brute will order the AI to let us go. We're getting out of here."

Of course, he didn't know that for sure. Rinoa's beliefs didn't always match the real world, in fact they often didn't. But this time, Squall hoped she was right.

* * *

"A sorceress?" Marcus questioned, his blank face unreadable.

"Yeah." Said Rinoa. "I didn't want to be, but I am. You got a problem with that?"

Marcus shook his head once. "No. The Empire wanted your kind dead, not I."

"My kind!" Rinoa exploded. "I'm not some…"

"Enough!" Quistis stopped the argument. "Are we clear about the plan?"

"I can't fly." Said Rinoa. "My magic can only levitate myself, not Brute as well."

"Flight or levitation is not required." Said Marcus. "Our descent has to be slow enough so I survive landing inside the entrance tunnel. That is all."

"Didn't that close up when we left?" Selphie piped up from the cockpit. "How do we open it up again?"

"The tunnel has less security. Only a voiceprint and passphrase are required." Marcus reached for the comm linked to the base, and switched it on.

"I had no mouth. I could not scream." There was the sound of whirring machinery, and he switched off the comm. "Done."

"Creepy." Selphie remarked, and Rinoa agreed.

"Right. Get this on." Quistis handed Rinoa an expanded harness. Rinoa scowled, but stood behind Marcus and pulled the harness over both their heads. Quistis tightened the straps, binding them closer together than Rinoa would have liked. "Okay. Rinoa, there's a release cord on each of your shoulders. When you're close enough to the entrance hatch, pull both of them simultaneously to release Marcus from the harness."

"When will I know I'm close enough?" Rinoa hated trusting Marcus with Squall's life, and hated even more not having a choice about it.

"When you begin to slow your descent." Marcus told her, as the two of them walked awkwardly to the bay door. "I should survive the impact from that point, and you will aim better at dropping me inside the entrance tunnel."

"I still don't like this." Quistis looked worried. "Hardly any normal person would survive…"

"I am not normal." Said Marcus. "I am not a person. I will die before I am defeated."

"But will you be able to move after you land?" Said Quistis. "It'll hurt. More than anything."

"I have rested. I will not feel pain at first, and after that it won't matter."

"Yeah!" Selphie shouted. "That's what I wanted to ask! Why you don't feel pain? I mean, sometimes you do, but mostly you don't! How's that work?"

"Humans feel an adrenalin rush when they fight, causing them to feel less pain." Marcus sounded like he was reciting a memorized speech, which he probably was. "In me, the process was enhanced. My adrenalin blocks all feeling. In the rush of battle, I can be maimed, I can be killed, but I can't be hurt. Only afterwards can I feel pain."

Quistis checked the straps one more time. "Okay. You're ready."

"Base site coming up!" Selphie called out, and the bay door slid open.

Marcus gripped the edges of the opening. Rinoa felt the wind rushing past, threatening to suck them out into empty space. "Why?"

Marcus tensed. "What?"

"Why are you doing this? You don't care about Squall, Zell or Seifer, or anyone else. Why risk death, just to save lives that mean nothing to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." Rinoa demanded. "Talk. Now."

"The Centran Empire was a weapon, aimed at every life on this planet. They lived only for the kill, to destroy everything. And they made me in their image." Marcus shuddered in rage. "I couldn't stop them. They stole everything that life could be, and they enjoyed it."

"They?" A truth Rinoa had long suspected began to dawn in her mind. "It wasn't a machine that made you like this, was it?"

"A machine?" Marcus shook his head. "No. That was a myth the Rebellion used to explain us. Our creators explained that the younger the life, the more efficient the genetic manipulation. And Centra was nothing if not efficient."

"So you were never… human." Rinoa felt the truth crushing over her like a weight, unable to breathe. "It can't be reversed? Can it?"

_One last hope. One last chance that this wasn't all for nothing. That I didn't fight Squall, just because…_

"No. The only cure for me is death."

_I was stupid._ Rinoa couldn't stop herself believing the truth any more. They'd argued, shouted, she'd hit him… and all over nothing. There was no way she could cure Marcus, no machine that Squall could destroy. All that anger and hate towards the man she loved, over something so stupid…

And now Squall was going to die, and she could never tell him she was sorry. And that hurt most of all.

_Our last words in this life were spoken in anger…_

"I still hate you." She said.

"You should." Marcus was cold as ever. "Everyone should."

"But if you can save him…" The words were choking her, but she had to get them out. "Then I'm sorry for what I did."

"Why?" Marcus turned to look at her. "Your actions were justified."

"Because… this is all wrong. Things shouldn't be like this." She swallowed. "Even you."

"Then if I save him, and die…" His voice became hesitant, almost begging. "Will you grant my wish?"

_After he's dead, he wants something? What?_ "What is it?"

"Burn my remains."

"You want to be cremated?" She didn't understand why that was so important. After you left your body behind, did it really matter what happened to it?

"No. My corpse must be incinerated completely. The ashes must be sterile, and every organic trace removed." He turned back to the open door. "You are a sorceress, you have magic enough."

"Yes, but… why?"

"My genetic material is the last secret of Centra, their twisted dream made real by science and madness. If used, the Empire could be reborn. That cannot happen." His grip around the doorframe tightened, his knuckles draining of blood. "The Empire lasted too long already. Centuries of death, and one step from forever! They're extinct! Their time is over!" He shouted. "They won't rise again! Enough is enough! ENOUGH!"

"We're here!" Selphie shouted. "Get ready to jump!"

Rinoa glanced at her watch, which showed they had just three and a half minutes left.

"Good luck." Said Quistis.

For an instant, Rinoa might have hesitated. She wasn't fully trained as a Seed, wasn't used to instantly deciding between life and death.

But Marcus was the inhuman creation of a psychotic Empire, and treated his life with as little concern as the lives of his enemies.

He jumped into the void.

Rinoa felt nothing but the air around her. She tried to focus on her gift, on her powers as a sorceress. Her wings appeared only through will and desperation, called into existence by the ultimate need.

She wanted to save Squall, more than anything, but her guilt shattered her concentration, fear and panic sapping her will. Her gift lost control, and her sorceress powers wouldn't answer her. She was helpless.

All she could do was fall, and watch the ground rushing towards her.

_**And we'll stop there, I think. (Evil, aren't I?) Who lives? Who dies? Everything depends on Rinoa, and she's already falling apart… There's almost enough info in the story now to figure out why Ellone is so important to Marcus… or maybe not. Since I already know the plot, I can't really judge, but his viewpoint in chapters 1 and 4 have some clues, if you want to guess while you're waiting for the next chapter, ****Three Minutes to Death****…**_


	9. Three Minutes To Death

_**The number of hits is well into four figures, which isn't bad… But come on. Reviews would be nice, people. I won't stop writing, or threaten to, but a little encouragement to post faster would benefit everyone, right?**_

_**Listening to 'Everything Burns' by Anastasia while writing this chapter. I think it fits in well with Marcus, and what's going on inside his head – which is a pretty scary place, as you'll find out…**_

Chapter 9: Three Minutes To Death

The sorceress had done nothing to slow their descent. Something was wrong.

Marcus wondered what it was. He had never fought a sorceress, but his instructors had feared their power would one day oppose Centra, and trained him to kill them. Their major weakness was usually their emotional bond with the one they loved, their chosen one, their 'knight'. If the knight was attacked, that bond between them could be exploited, manipulated, or shattered, killing them both.

And because of his actions, her knight was about to die, and very likely her with him. Marcus supposed his creators would be proud of him killing a sorceress, but consoled himself with how disappointed they would be that he was killing himself as well, and driving the Centran race extinct. The thought was comforting.

Marcus had never understood why humans were so afraid of death. Death was oblivion, and oblivion brought peace, an end to pain and suffering. Why be afraid of that? He doubted they viewed human life as precious, given their constant eagerness to kill each other.

No, death did not concern him. But failure did. With his failure, other lives would be destroyed, because of him. He'd caused nothing but death since his awakening. Far better for him to die fighting in the city, protecting her. Dying for a worthy purpose, that was all he wanted.

All he'd ever wanted. All he could ever have.

* * *

Rinoa was helpless, her death looming towards her. She couldn't focus, couldn't summon her power. Too many distractions.

_You're too emotional. Too weak to stand on your own two feet. You'll never be anything but an embarrassment._ Caraway's words, the man who was supposed to be her father, and never was.

But he'd been right. She wasn't strong enough, wasn't able to survive on her own. And now she'd brought Squall down to her level, and he was going to die with her.

Even Brute could have done better. He was a cold, heartless killer, but he wouldn't be this weak.

_Don't waste time thinking about what you've done, or what you're going to do. That doesn't matter. Think about the present, and act instinctively._ Squall's words.

Squall.

_Life is a blade._

Rinoa shut her eyes, letting her thoughts and fears drift away, forgetting about everything except what she wanted. _Don't think, just do._ Her magic awakened at her call, humming through her veins. Her power was not requested, or summoned, but commanded to come to her aid.

Wings burst from her back, the sorceress gift hers to control. She opened her eyes as her descent slowed, aiming for the entrance to the base.

But she was falling too fast, had called on her magic too late. It wasn't enough to save them.

Rinoa swooped in an arc, slowing her descent for a few precious seconds that could mean the difference between life and death. This had to work. She couldn't accept anything else.

But gravity wasn't listening. She was almost at the entrance tunnel, and still falling too fast.

She'd summoned her power too late. She'd failed. _Again._

She pulled on the release cords, and Brute fell away from her. The Centran dived into the tunnel without a word, and she heard a bone-crushing thud an instant later as she pulled sharply away, the ground flashing past only several feet below her.

_He's dead. Squall's dead. They're all…_

Her arms instinctively came up just before she crashed into the ground, immediately twisting into a somersault from the sideways momentum. Rinoa cartwheeled over and over, her body battered, her mind numb.

And finally, she lay still, as everything came to a stop. Just like her life.

Squall was dead. Their last moments together, she'd screamed at him in a stupid argument that never mattered anyway. She hadn't told him she loved him. And she couldn't even have revenge; out of the two who killed him, one was dead, and the other was just a machine.

She cried where she lay, not bothering to get up. What was the point?

* * *

"Rinoa's not moving!" Selphie slowed the Ragnarok, preparing to land. "Is she hurt? What happened?"

"She was falling too fast when she released Marcus." Said Quistis. "Her magic continued to slow her descent, and she landed on flat ground, so she shouldn't have any serious injuries."

"But… What about Marcus?"

"Dead." Quistis spoke flatly. "Instantly. Hitting a flight of steep metal steps, at that speed, headfirst? His neck would have snapped on impact."

"But he's a GEC!" Selphie protested. "He can survive anything, right? You said he could do anything!"

"I said he wasn't human. That fall would kill anyone, unless they could fly, which he can't. And even if magic could have helped him, he can't use it." Quistis stopped. "I'm sorry, but he's dead. He has to be."

"Then… They're all dead." Selphie looked about to break down. "Squall, Zell, Seifer… they're all dead. And it's all my fault. If I'd flown faster…"

"You couldn't have." Irvine interrupted, holding his girlfriend's hand from the co-pilot's seat. "And they're not dead, either. We've still got two minutes left."

"To do what, Irvine?" Quistis snapped. "We can't save them without Marcus, and he's dead! I don't like this any more than you do, but there's nothing we can do to save them."

"Breaking Seed protocol there, Quisty?" Irvine mocked. "Didn't think you were the type."

"What?"

"Few months back, you sent me to assassinate a crime boss in Galbadia. Gave me a four-hour briefing before I left. Remember?"

"Yes, but what…"

"Now I slept through some of it and forgot the rest, but I remember you saying how Seed protocol meant I had to confirm his death. You said it wasn't a kill until I saw the body." He waved towards the Centran base. "Can you see Marcus's body from here? Cos I can't, and my eyes are way better than yours."

"This is different." Quistis insisted. "You can't escape from the reality of the situation."

"Wanna bet?" Irvine shrugged. "Your reality, against mine. Let's see who wins."

The hull shook as the Ragnarok landed. "First Rinoa, then the base. He's dead when I see the body, not before." Irvine shouldered his shotgun. "It ain't over till it's over."

* * *

Martial artists know to slap the ground when thrown to the floor, to absorb the shock of the impact. Marcus did this as he fell into the tunnel, and his right palm hit the step an instant before the rest of his body.

As he'd expected, his arm shattered, bone snapping instantly in several places. The impact as the rest of his body followed bruised his spine and almost fractured a leg, but he remained conscious as he plunged down the steps.

His arm tingled, the sensation reminded him that he was injured despite his inability to feel, a sign of the intense, blinding pain he would soon experience. As this was irrelevant, he ignored it, reminding himself of what he had to do.

_Head, most important. Injury would cause unconsciousness, therefore failure. Protect at all costs._

_Body, second most important. Injury could sever the spine, immobilized, or breaking the ribs and stabbing them into the heart. Protect if at all possible._

_Limbs, expendable…_ Marcus forced his broken arm out in front of him, locked it to absorb the force of impact. He felt his shoulder fracture, but ignored it. The tingling sensation grew more intense, a sign that his immunity to pain wouldn't last much longer, but he ignored that too. Pain was only a signal, one his creators has designed and trained him to ignore. And there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

_Limbs expendable._ He continued. _Already broken limbs are useless, so always focus injuries on them first. Protect a leg if possible, to preserve movement._

He hit the edge of a step, and felt his ribs break. He brought his left arm across his chest and he bounced, and his elbow creaked when he landed back down, but stayed unbroken.

Marcus continued to fall, continually pushing himself forward, hurling himself faster down the steps, refusing to slow down. One mistake and he would die, but one second lost and he could fail in his purpose. The first was trivial, but the last he could never allow.

_As we trained you._ A voice whispered in the back of his head. _Accept your true purpose, and leave these slaves to their filth. Seize your true destiny!_

* * *

"Rinny?" Selphie ran across the barren plain. "Rinny, you okay?"

Rinoa sobbing and shaking where she collapsed, didn't answer.

"Think that's a no, Sefie." Irvine hung back. He knew from experience that joking around with depressed girls was a big mistake. It was bad enough with normal girls, but Rinoa was a sorceress. So he stayed quiet.

"Rinny, are you…"

"NO!" Rinoa screamed, her tear stained face flicking up. "He's dead! They're all dead. My knight…"

"Well?" Quistis was staring at him. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"Nah." Irvine shrugged. "I'll wait until we know for sure." He checked his watch. "In about forty seconds."

* * *

"You can't control me any more." Marcus hissed, and he landed awkwardly on another step, twisting his ankle. "You're dead. I killed you."

_And now Centra lives on, in you. You are the ultimate killer, the perfect creature of conquest. You are the first of the new master race._

"I am the last of a mistake that never should have been. I will die alone, and be forgotten. Centra ends with me."

_If you truly believed that, you would have killed yourself long ago._

"Thirty seconds."

_You didn't kill yourself because you don't want to die. You want to kill. To experience the joy of slaughter, the glory of conquest._

"Shut u…" Marcus landed badly, his left leg snapping instantly. He collapsed into the lift.

"Down!" He shouted, and fell into the depths.

_You're one of us. You always were._

"I'm not…" Marcus struggled to move his leg, ready to move again. "Like you…"

_But you are. Remember our orders? You followed every one._

"Not the last." He was starting to feel pain now, his head spinning. "I turned against you."

_So you did. And how many millions did you kill then?_

* * *

"Twenty seconds."

* * *

"It was war."

_Hardly. Millions of unarmed men, women and children. And not one survived. You killed them all, and you didn't regret it._

"It had to be done." The lift was still moving. "They had to die."

_Spoken like a true Centran._ The voice was laughing in his head.

The lift stopped, and Marcus fell out and collapsed, smashing his head on the floor. His vision blurred. He spun in a circle as he staggered to his feet, knowing if he didn't get up now, he never would.

He was facing a wall, a dark haze to his left and right. Which way to go? He turned right, then left. He didn't know, he couldn't see.

_You are Centran._ Marcus saw the image of his instructor, the man who'd trusted him, the man he'd killed. _You belong to us. You serve us. You always will._

"Never."

_This civilization of slaves won't last. It's too weak. From the day you entered their petty world, you've brought suffering and pain. Soon you'll destroy it all, and begin your rule._

"No! I wouldn't…" A fresh surge of pain, and he struggled to breathe, clutching his side with his one functioning hand, ready to collapse.

_A new empire, for a new master race._ More phantom laughter. _You've already chosen your mate, haven't you?_ _That woman called…_

"NEVER!" Marcus lunged for his instructor, hands ready to rip his throat out.

* * *

"Ten seconds." Irvine tapped his watch. "This is it."

* * *

The hallucination disappeared as Marcus dived through it, and he fell into an open doorway. His face smashed into the metal floor, and his thoughts scattered completely, leaving a dim, foggy haze. He would have passed out, but there was a voice that kept talking to him, keeping him awake.

"_Nine seconds… Eight seconds…"_

What was it saying? Why couldn't it let him sleep? Where was he, anyway?

"_Seven seconds…"_

Consciousness flooded back, and Marcus looked up, to see a timer on the wall.

_0:06…_

"Cancel termination of all prisoners! Release them immediately! Confirm!"

_0:05…_

_0:04…_

His memories were laughing at him. _You killed them. They were the best this pathetic world had to offer, and you killed them without even trying. Because that's all you do, all you are. You're a killer. Soon, you'll admit it. Then, you'll enjoy it._

"CONFIRM!" He screamed.

_0:03…_

_0:02…_

"_Order confirmed. Welcome back, Commander Kensai."_

The timer disappeared. Marcus's head fell onto the floor as he relaxed.

Then the pain hit him, molten lava flowing through his veins, every shudder of his body agony beyond description. If the Centrans hadn't tortured him endlessly to test the limits of their creation, he would have blacked out instantly. As it was, he was barely able to focus his thoughts.

"Permanent lockdown on all weaponry and biotech areas, maximum security. Allow the prisoners, and their associates, full access to all other areas, and permission to grant selected others the same access. All prisoners are to be held captive only, no terminations." He coughed up blood, feeling his body breaking with every breath he took. "Confirm."

"_Confirmed."_

It was done. Now he could rest. Now he could die.

"_Commander Kensai, bioscans indicate you will cease to exist without immediate assistance. Recommend dispensing of medication."_

"Double blocker." A sealed syringe of a pale green liquid fell out of a hatch and rolled across the floor, stopping over ten feet away from Marcus.

He dragged his mangled body across the floor towards it, then collapsed with a hacking fit, vomiting blood. He wouldn't make it, but he had to let them know… that he hadn't wanted this to happen…

"Open a comm channel to them…" He wheezed. "Tell them…" Another coughing fit gripped him, and he couldn't breathe.

* * *

"It's over." Said Quistis. "We failed."

"NO!" Rinoa screamed. "He couldn't die… He promised…"

"I'm sorry Rinny." Selphie was crying as well, hugging Rinoa. "We tried… We really did…"

"But our bond of knight and sorceress… I can still feel his presence in my head… Like a ghost…"

_Like phantom pain of an amputated limb_ thought Quistis, but didn't say anything. _It'll soon fade away._

She heard heavy breathing from her comm device.

"IRVINE!" She turned on the sharpshooter, spitting. "THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES!"

"What?" Irvine backed away, hands up in surrender. "I didn't do anything!"

"Your heavy breathing in the comm, you pervert! Do you really think now is the time for…" Quistis stopped. The breathing hadn't stopped when Irvine was talking.

"Hey! I can hear it too!" Selphie adjusted the volume on her comm. "Sounds like someone's choking. Who is it?"

"Squall!" Rinoa gasped. "They're torturing him!"

"Impossible." Quistis shook her head. "The AI would be efficient, not sadistic. It would have killed him instantly."

"But if it's not the prisoners, then…" Selphie's eyes widened. "Marcus! He's alive!" She cheered, turning to Rinoa. "Rinny, Squalls…" She stopped. Rinoa wasn't there.

Quistis turned, and saw Rinoa running into the entrance hatch.

"Look at her go!" Irvine watched her as she disappeared. "She's faster than Selphie on a triple expresso!"

* * *

Squall leaned forward against the bars as the timer counted down the last few seconds. He closed his eyes, thinking of Rinoa. _I'm sorry. I never told you I…_

The pressure on his face disappeared, and Squall fell flat on his face.

"What the…" He opened his eyes. Zell and Seifer were climbing out of their cages, the bars retracting into the walls and ceiling.

"Enjoying the floor, Puberty Boy?" Seifer smirked, then shouted to the walls. "And where's my sword?"

"Forget it!" Zell rushed towards an open doorway. "We can't stay here! What if the computer changes its mind?"

"It didn't change its mind, Zell." Squall got up, and made for the doorway. "Whatever. Let's go."

After kicking the walls a few times and making threats, Seifer finally followed them. A lift cubicle was a few feet from the doorway.

"I'll do it this time." Said Zell. "Up!" The lift ascended.

"Brilliant, chickenwuss." Said Seifer. "Now learn to say down, left, and right, and you'll have passed."

"Why you…"

"Enough!" Seifer didn't have his gunblade, so Zell had the advantage. If they hadn't still been in enemy territory, Squall might have allowed the fight. "Keep alert until we're back in the Ragnarok, both of you!"

The lift stopped. Squall exited first, walking through a short passageway that led to the section where they'd been attacked.

Squall heard a crunch as he stepped through. He looked down, to see the floor littered with spiderbot parts.

"Whoa!" Zell whistled. "Looks like the others did some major damage!"

Squall ignored him. He was looking at the body at the far end, trailing thick smears of blood behind it. Lying face down, the short black hair was the only thing that identified it as the Centran known as Brute. Without that, it would have been too damaged even to tell if it was a man or a woman.

"He had some guts, I'll give him that." Seifer muttered. "Even for a Centran."

Squall moved closer. He had to admit Seifer was right. The body was still in casual clothes, but everything from the waist up was tattered, the pale skin heavily bruised, scabbed and bloodstained in numerous places. The right arm was mangled, and the left leg twisted in a way that suggested a multiple fracture. The pool of blood he'd thrown up suggested internal injuries. Squall knelt beside the body, wondering what had happened.

The body twitched. Squall jumped back.

"He's still alive!" Zell rushed forward, fist raised. "I'll finish him!"

"Stop!" Squall blocked him. "He's not our enemy!"

"But he must have attacked the others…"

"Stand down, Zell! That's an order!" Said Squall. "No Seed did this." If Squall had to describe the cause of injury, he would have said the Centran had been beaten and tortured, then thrown off a building. He knew Rinoa and the others hadn't done this, and even if they had, Brute would never have escaped anyone in this condition.

Zell huffed, but backed away, keeping a wary eye on Brute. The Centran moved his good arm forward, dragging his body about an inch before stopping.

Squall looked to where Brute was crawling, and saw the syringe. He walked over, and picked it up.

"It could be a weapon." Zell warned.

"Still scared, chickenwuss?"

"It's not a weapon." The liquid didn't look any drug like Squall knew, but then it was made by Centra, so that wasn't surprising. But should he give it to Brute?

The Centran hadn't been trying to kill him in the hospital. The computer system running this base had attacked them without warning and nearly killed three of them, but that was in response to its programming. Brute had left the base while he was insane, so he wouldn't have given the computer orders. The Centran couldn't be blamed for how events turned out.

Besides, even if what was in the syringe healed him instantly, which was incredibly unlikely given his injuries, Brute didn't have his sword, and it was three against one. They could kill him without too much trouble.

Squall unsealed the syringe, and Brute lifted his head, jerking it slightly up, then slightly down. A nod.

Squall straightened the unmangled arm, and injected the drug.

The effects were immediate. Brute's eyes turned glassy, and his face vacant as he lay on one side, but he still didn't move.

"What was it?" Zell leaned in closer.

"A painkiller, I think." Only half the contents had been injected, and Squall resealed the syringe, and slipped it into his pocket. He'd ask Doctor Kadowaki to analyse it when he got back to Balamb Garden. If the drug could be mass-produced, Seed would find it invaluable.

"But where is…" He started to say, then heard the sound of fast-running footsteps coming up from behind. He turned around, just in time to be engulfed by a blue and silver-wearing hurricane that crashed into him, knocking him flat. The back of his head smacked into the metal floor, giving him a splitting headache and threatening a migraine.

"SQUALL!" The hurricane, also known as Rinoa, cried out as she tried to hug and kiss him to death. The hugging actually felt quite nice, although he'd never admit that, but the way her mouth was clamped over his made suffocation a very real possibility.

_Dammit, Rin, I was safer with the spiderbots…_

"Squall, I'm sorry!" Rinoa was crying and talking all at once. "I was mad at you and I thought you were dead please don't go…" The words rolled over each other, not giving Squall a chance to respond.

Quistis, Selphie and Irvine entered the chamber, noticing Squall being engulfed by the Rinoa hurricane.

"Aww!" Selphie exclaimed. "That's so cute!"

"The force is strong in that one." Said Irvine. "I have trained him well."

"It's romantic!" Selphie turned on him, eyes flashing. "Why can't you be more like that?"

Irvine grinned. "Okay." He pulled Selphie towards him and fell over backwards, dragging her on top of him as she struggled.

Squall finally broke free of Rinoa's grip. "Rin, I'm sorry. You were right." He said. "If we find the machine, we'll try to…"

But Rinoa was shaking her head. "We can't. It wasn't a machine. The Centrans changed him, and it can't be reversed."

"His name is Marcus Kensai." Quistis told him, looking at the broken body unmoving on the floor. "He was genetically modified by Centran biotech, to become the perfect soldier for their new army. A GEC."

There was a slapping noise, and a yell of "Let me breathe, you pervert!", but Squall ignored it. "That's not possible."

"It's true, Squall." Rinoa told him. "We found out when…"

"But Centra lost the war!" In the war eighty years ago, the rebels had been poorly trained and armed, but the Centrans were heavily outnumbered. But with soldiers like that… Squall saw in his mind Marcus fighting in Esthar, hacking through trained, heavily armed terrorists without pity or weakness. Against an army of soldiers like Marcus, the rebels wouldn't have stood a chance. The Centran Empire would have been unbeatable.

But Centra had lost. Why?

Then he heard the laughter.

If it was laughter. The sound was an angry rasp, a scornful grating that set teeth on edge. But someone, or more accurately something, was clearly showing amusement.

"I won!" Marcus gasped, turning himself over with one hand so he lay face up. He kept laughing. "I beat you!"

Squall looked at Rinoa, wondering what was going on, but she looked back, just as confused. He looked to Quistis, with the same result.

"I won!" Marcus laughed again, a noise that really got on Squall's nerves. "You couldn't kill one of them! All the power and technology of the Empire, and you were helpless. You couldn't do a thing!"

Seifer coughed, drawing a finger across his throat as he got Squall's attention, then nodding towards Marcus. Squall had to admit that for once, Seifer had a point. As well as eliminating a dangerous threat, killing Marcus might be the kindest thing they could do for him.

"I won, Centra!" Marcus screamed a final laugh. "I beat you! I… wonnn…"

And then he passed out.

_**Can they afford to let Marcus survive? Or will the hatred of eighty years ago be too much to let any Centran live? And what happened to the rest of the GEC's? Things are getting darker, and the Centran base will come alive with blood and hate as the answers are revealed in the next chapter, ****Destroyer of ****Worlds****…**_

_**Oh, and in case I didn't mention it before? Review. Please. Pretty please? C'mon!**_


	10. Destroyer of Worlds

_**Okay, Chapter 10! Thanks for the reviews of last chapter, and yes, I am trying to speed up submissions. But my contract's almost up and I'm looking for another one, and while writing is great, it doesn't pay the bills. Enough about me, on with the story!**_

"_Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds." – __**J. Robert Oppenheimer, witnessing the detonation of the first atomic bomb.**_

Chapter 10: Destroyer of Worlds

Not for the first time, Squall wondered how everything had gone wrong so fast. The week had started quietly, like any other, then General Estoc had hired Seed to deal with the Adelists. Nothing too difficult there, not for Seeds who'd defeated the great Sorceress Ultimecia, right?

Then Marcus had turned up out of nowhere, a psychotic Centran on the rampage, and nearly got them all killed. By accident, because Marcus hadn't even been trying to hurt them. Weren't they supposed to be better than this?

"Squall?" Rinoa was trying to get his attention. "What do we do now?"

"Kill him." Seifer shrugged. "Best way. He's done enough damage."

"Nobody's killing anyone." Squall warned, making sure his voice was loud enough. The AI was quiet enough for now, but he was sure that if they attacked Marcus, it wouldn't stay that way for long. "What happened?"

Quistis, Rinoa, and Selphie told him how the AI had released them once Rinoa went full sorceress, and how they'd had to find Marcus and get back here in a few hours. Irvine made a few comments now and then, mostly about himself.

Squall paid special attention to Rinoa's conversation with Marcus, just before they jumped out of the Ragnarok. What Marcus had said at the hospital now made perfect sense: _This world is yours, not mine, and you are more than I could ever be_. The Centran's self-hatred ran deep, and perhaps with good reason.

"So what do we do now?" Rinoa asked.

_Good question._ Marcus was dangerous, but he wasn't exactly an enemy, not any more. But he wasn't a friend either. And he was only partially sane. Another bout of madness could trigger a bloodbath. They couldn't kill him with the AI watching, but they could just leave, and call in an artillery strike to wipe the Centran base off the map, and take all the biotech with it. It was the safest course.

"Kill him, burn the body." Seifer, of course. "But clear out this place before we go. Centra made good stuff, and I… we could use it."

"What?" Selphie protested. "You can't murder him! He saved your life!"

"He's the one who nearly killed us! Everything that happened is down to him! We can't let him live!"

"We can't kill him!" Said Rinoa. "Even when we nearly killed him, he still did everything he could to help us! We haven't the right!"

"He nearly killed me twice." Zell was unusually calm. "You want him to try again?"

"But we nearly killed him as well." Quistis pointed out. "He was trying to save Ellone from us, and we were trying to save her from him. And he said that since Ellone didn't want us hurt, he couldn't attack again."

"And you believe him?" Said Zell.

Quistis thought, then slowly nodded. "Yes. Whatever else he might be, he's not a liar."

"We'll let him live." Squall seized his chance to interrupt the argument. "He's no threat to us at the moment."

"I don't believe this, Puberty!" Seifer exploded. "You're trusting a Centran?"

"We don't trust him!" Squall snarled. "We'll let him live, as long as he doesn't threaten us, but that's it. He nearly got himself killed helping us, so that earns him something, but we don't let him go until we know all the answers." He shook his head. "We can't decide if he's guilty or innocent unless we know who he is and what he was doing, and right now, we don't know either. There's too many questions here." He looked down at the mangled body. "He helped us, so we help him. For now."

"Cure spells won't do much." Said Selphie. "Has this place got a hospital?"

"_Full medical facilities are available on floor 5, sector H."_ The AI sounded exactly the same as when it was counting down to their execution. _"Full access permissions are held by all current base inhabitants."_

"We can go anywhere?" Squall was immediately sceptical.

_"Negative. All biotechnology and weaponry areas are locked down. All other areas are fully accessible."_

Squall nodded. Marcus trusted them only so far, just like they trusted him. And he wasn't letting anyone near the bioweapons, for which Squall didn't blame him. The genetically engineered plagues of the Centran Empire had been the perfect tools of ethnic cleansing and genocide, the ultimate weapons of terror. Released within a city, an entire racial group would be infected instantly, and wiped out in a couple of days, their putrescent bodies dying in the streets while the Centrans walked past in perfect health.

"Squall?" Irvine nodded towards Marcus. "We taking him to the doc?"

"Yes." Squall nodded. "Where is it?"

"_The medical facility is on floor 5, sector H."_

"Yeah?" Said Zell. "And where the hell's that?"

A hatch opened on a wall, and a large spiderbot scuttled out. Squall's lightning spell just missed it, as did Irvine's shotgun blast an instant later, both explosions sending the spiderbot flying backwards. It righted itself and darted behind a console, chased by spells, explosions, and bullets.

"Smarter than the others." Seifer raised his gunblade, waiting for a clear shot.

"_That is correct."_ The AI informed him. _"All maintenance drones are built to exact specifications, with self-aware programming and independent intelligence, enabling them to repair my primary functions in the event I am taken offline. Soldier drones, as you encountered, are built to a basic blueprint, and completely dependent upon my direction."_ There was a pause. _"Why destroy it? Your actions serve no purpose."_

"You tried to kill us all!" Zell shouted. "Why should we trust you?"

_"Trust is an organic function. I am a machine. I will always follow my programming."_

Everyone lowered their weapons. "Okay." Squall motioned. "Send it over."

The head of the spiderbot slowly peeked out from the edge of the console. Seifer raised his gunblade, and the spiderbot ducked out of sight.

"Seifer!" Quistis snapped. "We're wasting time!"

Seifer lowered his gunblade. The spiderbot gradually edged out from it's cover, and stood before them.

While the spiderbots that attacked them before had pincers, blades, and syringes, this one was larger and had no obvious weaponry, instead being covered in tools and gadgets of various types. Two of its legs had soldering and welding gear attached, while several others had network cables and what looked to be computer ports and sockets of various types. Some kind of data storage device was attached underneath the body, and the head had eight camera eyes spaced equally apart, pointing in every direction to give 360-degree vision.

"Cute!" Selphie rushed forward. "Can it talk?"

"_Negative."_ The AI spoke. _"But it is intelligent, understands human speech, and will follow all verbal commands."_

"Okay!" Selphie nodded. "Take us to the hospital!"

The spiderbot scuttled off, legs rattling against the floor as it approached a side door, and then stopped, waiting for them to catch up.

Squall sighed, then crouched to pick up Marcus's body. The Centran was heavier than he looked, probably due to increased muscle and bone density. "Zell, take his legs."

"No way! He's…"

"Zell, that's an order." Squall stated. "You don't argue with orders. You carry them out. Now."

Zell muttered something, but picked up the Centran's lower half and followed the spiderbot.

* * *

The hospital area looked cold and absolutely sterile, without any trace of warmth or comfort. In the middle was a row of what looked uncomfortably like coffins, their lids fully open with robotic arms protruding from the sides. Next to the nearest coffin, a white rectangle shone from the floor.

_"Please deposit the body of Commander Kensai as directed."_

Zell dropped Marcus on the floor, looking as if he wanted to stamp on the body.

"Don't you mean the patient?" Quistis warily inspected a coffin. "Or didn't the Centrans use that word?"

"_They used it, but not for military purposes. An injured soldier was unimportant in itself, only of value for how quickly it could regain function and purpose."_

Squall dragged Marcus onto the rectangle, then laid the body down. "Now what?"

The floor section rose into the air, carrying the body with it until it was level with the coffin. Metallic claws reached out, pulling Marcus inside and holding his body tight.

The arms around the coffin extended, hovering over the Centran's body with an array of scalpels, surgical saws, syringes and needles of all types. The coffin lid lowered shut, and Selphie shuddered as a whirring noise accompanied the sounds of slicing into flesh and bone.

"Think that'll cure him?" Irvine asked.

_"Highly likely. He has been healed of greater damage many times before."_

"I knew it." Quistis looked at the others. "That must be why the rebels won the first battles of the war."

"What?" Seifer looked blank, as did Zell.

"Didn't you pay attention to anything in class?" Quistis snapped. "The first battles of the Centran rebellion were won mostly by the rebels, even though they were outnumbered, inexperienced and ill-equipped. For the rebels to start winning so decisively, when they hardly had any military experience whatsoever, they must have had excellent military strategy, or a core of unbeatable elite troops. Or both."

"Strategy?" Zell pointed at the coffin. "Him? He's as dumb as… as…"

"You, Chickenwuss?" Seifer remarked.

"That's enough, both of you!" Quistis commanded as Zell raised his fist.

"Marcus said each GEC was designed for a purpose of the Centran Empire." Said Rinoa. "So if he was the soldier… Who was the military strategist?"

"Exactly." Quistis nodded. "It's always been a mystery how an untrained mass of former slaves destroyed the most advanced and powerful civilization the world has ever known. We saw Marcus fighting alone at the speech. An entire race of GECs, allied with the rebels, could have been enough to take on the Empire, and win."

"So where are the other GECs?" Squall asked the AI.

_"The Vault."_

"What?" Selphie looked up from examining the spiderbot. "It said nobody was living inside the facility!"

"I didn't ask about the living." Said Squall. "I asked about the GECs."

"Then… they're all dead?" Selphie went quiet.

"He's the last of his kind?" Rinoa spoke softly. "Nobody deserves that."

_Don't be too sure _Squall thought. War brought out the best in a few people, but the worst in most. If you did nothing but kill, then it became easier to stop listening to your guilt and ignore your conscience, and then you could do whatever it took to win. Sacrifice any number of lives, commit the most hideous atrocities, just to destroy your enemy. War could make you dead inside.

But Marcus was already dead inside, and worse, even before the Centran rebellion. The Empire had been incredibly powerful, and to even stand a chance of winning, the rebels would have had to be beyond ruthless. And Marcus would have been the coldest of them all.

Rinoa saw the Centran as being sinned against, but Squall was sure Marcus had done more than enough sinning of his own. But was it too much? He didn't know…

"Time for some answers." He decided finally. "Leave Marcus here, and we'll see what medical supplies we can salvage later. This drug…" He reached inside a pocket for the syringe he'd used on Marcus, but it wasn't there.

"What the…" Squall turned, and saw Seifer injecting himself.

"Don't sweat it puberty. I left you half." Seifer tried to recap the syringe, succeeding on the third try. He threw it to Squall, but missed. "Needed something after I got shocked, trying to get your lazy asses out."

"Seifer…" Rinoa sighed.

"Hey!" Seifer stepped back. "You're glowing! Don't start going sorceress on me!"

"What?" Rinoa was confused. "I'm not…"

Squall looked at Rinoa. Nothing was out of the… well, ordinary was never a word he could use to describe her, but she didn't look different than usual. Slightly flushed, but he liked that, along with…

He clamped down on that train of thought before it finished boarding at the station, and looked away, only to see Irvine grinning at him. The cowboy had seen exactly where he was looking.

_Dammit…_

"Don't you get all weird on me!" Seifer was flailing his arms. "Just because you're going all stretchy!"

"I'm what?" Rinoa was confused. "Seifer, why are you…"

Seifer started laughing, and leaned forward until he lost his balance. His arms remained at his side as he fell, his face crashing into the metal floor with a loud _thud_.

Everyone looked at Squall. Squall looked at the syringe.

"That was half a dose?" Rinoa.

"Can we produce it at Garden?" Quistis.

"Anyone got a camera?" That was Zell, watching Seifer as he lay facedown, waving his arms about and giggling.

"Enough." Squall scowled. "Get him up."

"Yeah?" Said Irvine. "How we gonna do that?"

"A slap round the face might bring him round." Quistis suggested.

Zell grinned as he clenched his fists.

"_He will not feel physical trauma."_ The AI informed them. _"A neurological enhancer will nullify the blocker overdose."_

"Do it." Said Squall.

_"Pain will result."_

"Good."

"Can't I just…" Zell protested.

"That's ENOUGH!" Squall snapped. "Let's get to the vault, do what we have to, then get out!" Everyone looked at him, shocked.

Rinoa especially. Squall avoided her gaze. "This place still belongs to the Centran Empire. This isn't our world. We just need to know what's going on here. We get some answers, then we get out. And we don't come back."

Everyone nodded. Squall didn't feel comfortable, but told himself it was this place that was causing it. At the orphanage where they all, except Rinoa, grew up, Cid had once told them terrifying stories about the Empire of Centra, that ruled the world long ago.

That night, they'd all had nightmares. Squall claimed he hadn't, as did Seifer, but it was obvious they were lying. Matron Edea had shouted at her husband Cid the next day, and Squall had convinced himself they were just stories, that they didn't really happen.

Then he'd grown up a bit, and found out he was right. What really happened was much, much worse, and the nightmares had started all over again. But at least he'd known the Centrans were extinct, and the Empire was destroyed.

But now they weren't. If Marcus and Ellone had both survived, could there be others? And worst of all, Centrans weren't evil by nature. Ellone certainly wasn't, and although Marcus was at least partially insane, he wasn't exactly evil. Quistis and Zell had both tried to kill him, but Marcus had saved both their lives. And when Rinoa almost killed him for something he hadn't actually done, Marcus had treated it as an everyday occurrence, and hadn't said a word to blame her.

Then again, Marcus had been trained by Centra. For him, nearly getting killed for something you didn't do probably was an everyday occurrence.

But if Centrans weren't evil, that meant they were human. And that meant that someday, someone could build another Empire, and the horror would start all over again.

Squall shook his head. He was brooding too much. It was this place that was doing it. As soon as they found out the truth, he was getting back to Balamb Garden, back to the real world, back to sanity. And doing his best to forget any of this had ever happened.

* * *

Rinoa watched as the spiderbot opened a port inside the lift, and plugged itself in. The lift descended sharply, but she hardly noticed. She was worried about how old Marcus was, and what that meant.

The Empire had made him into their idea of the perfect warrior, but the Empire was destroyed over eighty years ago. He looked to be in his twenties, but had to be at least in his eighties. But Marcus had spoken of his personal hatred of the Emperor, and probably fought in the rebellion.

Which made him over a hundred years old. But he looked and fought like he was a quarter of that.

She'd tried to convince herself it was because he was a GEC, that his genes had been modified to give him a longer lifespan, but she knew that wasn't right. Soldiers of the Centran Empire were meant to die for the Empire, not live to a normal life expectancy, let alone an extended one.

That left one other reason he was still so young. A reason she'd encountered herself, in Esthar, just after she'd become a sorceress. A reason that almost sealed her away forever, suspending her in eternal dreams of ice. And then, just before her fate was sealed, Squall arrived, her knight in shining armour, and released her.

She'd promised herself she'd never go back there. Yet here she was, walking straight back into her worst nightmare.

"Rin?" Squall asked her. "You okay?"

She looked around, noticing the lift had stopped and everyone else was already out. Squall was standing by the door, looking at her with a faint expression of worry that would have been undetectable to anyone without her Squall-watching experience.

"I'm fine." She lied, and walked out of the lift.

Squall stopped her. "The Sorceress Memorial?"

She hesitated.

"Nothing will happen. Even if it is like that, you're not going into stasis. I won't let them. We won't let them."

"But…"

"No buts." His grip was firm as he took her hand. "It's NOT going to happen."

They walked down the corridor. Squall didn't release her hand, and she was grateful.

"Hey!" Selphie exclaimed. "Spidey looks depressed!"

"What?" Rinoa looked at Irvine, hoping it wasn't a new pet name for him, and really hoping that Selphie wouldn't explain her reasoning behind it. The first time that happened had been bad enough… "Who?"

Selphie pointed to the spiderbot. It was slower than before as it reached the door, not moving with the quick scuttle that led them to the medical bay.

"Ready?" Squall asked, with a quick glance in her direction. She nodded.

"Open it up." The door slid open, revealing what lay inside.

Rinoa gasped in shock, and her vision blurred. "Rin!" Squall caught her just before she collapsed. "Quistis, you're in charge. We're going back to the Ragnarok."

"No." Rinoa got to her feet. "I'm staying."

"But…"

"I'm alright, and I'm staying." Rinoa walked into the vault.

It was different than the Sorceress Memorial. When she'd been taken there, there was only one cryostasis chamber, specially prepared to seal her away forever in suspended animation, for the 'good of the world', just because she was a sorceress.

This Vault had cryostasis chambers lining each wall, on three different levels. Metal staircases led up to a platform on each level, with computers, cables and machinery winding around every inch of wall space. Maybe about two hundred chambers in all.

And a person lay inside every cubicle, lying there with frosted ice around them, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping.

But they weren't asleep, and never would be, ever again.

The men and women inside all had the same sharp, angular features that Marcus had, but some looked gentle, instead of harsh. Some were tall, others were short, some were muscular while others were slender. But every one of them looked exactly the same age as Marcus, and every one of them was…

"Dead." Rinoa murmured, reluctant to disturb the silence as she looked into the chambers. "They're all dead."

"_That is correct."_ The AI spoke once, then was silent.

"Hey!" Selphie waved her arms from the other end of the vault. "This one's empty!"

They rushed over. The cubicle was on the ground level, with the door hanging slightly open.

"Look at this!" An excited Selphie pointed at a metallic plate attached to the base.

The Seeds crowded round. The plate read 'MARCUS KENSAI – BRUTE' in raised letters, but below that, etched with some kind of stylus or permanent marker, was the word HAWK.

"So that's what they called him." Said Squall.

"Hawk." Selphie repeated. "So he isn't just a monster after all."

"So who wrote that?" Zell asked.

"A girl." Said Irvine.

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Irvine nodded at the plate. "That's not a guy's handwriting. Trust me."

"Melissa!" Selphie nodded. "He talked about her, but… if she was here, then…" She looked at the chambers around them, and gulped.

"He survived." Squall looked round. "She didn't. That's why he said he betrayed her."

"But how did this happen?" Quistis was looking into an adjacent chamber. "And why?"

"_There was an accident."_ The AI spoke. _"An unexpected power surge disrupted the stasis mechanisms, but the cryo cooling mechanisms functioned under a separate system, and still functioned. Over fifty per cent of units failed instantly, the stasis failure causing them to freeze solid, killing those inside. The power monitoring stations were destroyed in the initial surge, which prevented the safety procedures from coming online."_

"And the other chambers?" Squall asked.

"_Within 2.4 seconds after the surge, nearly all units had failed. Some had been isolated from the power grid, but the life support could not function without power, and the inhabitants died. Auxiliary power was directed to the few units still capable of sustaining life, but the cryostasis chamber occupied by Commander Kensai was the only one to successfully store enough power to keep life support functioning before being isolated."_

"What happened then?" Rinoa questioned. "Why didn't you let him out?"

"_The unit was isolated, so it was no longer under my control, and any interruption in stasis would have killed him. Successful revival was only possible by the emergency cut-off procedures, which would only activate once the unit reached low power levels. This resulted in Commander Kensai remaining in stasis longer than was intended."_

"How long?" Rinoa had to know. "How long were they meant to be in here?"

_"Six months."_

Rinoa felt a sinking feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach. She was facing her worst nightmare by being here, but Marcus had lived through it for real.

"And how long before the power ran low enough to let him out?" Her voice cracked.

_"Seventy eight years, five months, twenty-seven days, eight hours, thirty minutes and fifty-nine seconds."_

"He's just woken up." Rinoa whispered. "Less than two weeks ago, he woke up, and everyone he knew was dead."

Irvine whistled. "Man, that's enough to drive anyone crazy."

Nobody said anything for a while. All Rinoa could do was imagine what happened to Marcus, happening to her.

"Why six months?" Squall asked finally. "Why did they want to go into stasis?"

_"The base was surrounded by over half a million Centran soldiers. All nearby rebel forces had been killed or beaten back, and reinforcements would not arrive in time. I had assisted their war with supplies, armaments and technology, but I could not help them further, as the primary function of my programming is to value Centran lives above all else. I am unable to directly take any Centran life."_

"So you couldn't do anything?"

_"Assisting Commander Kensai would have killed soldiers of the Centran army, violating my core programming. Failing to assist Commander Kensai would have killed the GECs, also violating my core programming. I considered it to be an unbreakable paradox, until Subcommander Psion found the solution."_

"Who?"

A light switched on next to a stasis cubicle on the opposite wall. Everyone moved to it, and looked inside.

The man was a slender ascetic type, tall and willow-thin with an aristocratic look. Although he appeared to be in his twenties, his hair was pure white, sweeping down past his shoulders. A confident smile played around his lips, as if he was playing a joke, and would wake up at any moment.

"If Marcus was the soldier…" Quistis mused. "What was Psion?"

_"Subcommander Psion was the ultimate success in mental genetic enhancements, as Commander Kensai was in the physical. He was a genius in nearly every subject of human knowledge, able to observe any individual and predict how they would react in any possible situation. In strategy, psychology, technology, and many other fields, he was the most intelligent being that ever lived, and was intended to mate with the daughter of the Emperor, to seed the Imperial bloodline with his enhanced intelligence."_

"If he's so smart, why was he only the subcommander?" Said Seifer.

_"Psion did not wish to be the commander. He theorized that the slave races would find it almost impossible to trust anyone of Centran blood, GEC or not, and an effective alliance could only be formed if the leader of the GECs was seen fighting on the front lines, fighting alongside the slave races and saving their lives in battle. Subsequent events proved him to be correct on all counts."_

"Too weak to fight, or too scared?" Seifer sneered.

_"Neither. Subcommander Psion was dextrous and agile, and a highly gifted fencer, but his physical traits were within human limits, whereas Commander Kensai was practically superhuman. His improvised military strategies were exceptionally effective, winning many impossible battles in the rebellion that would otherwise have been lost. In times between conflicts, he would analyse Centran war machines and technology, discovering weak points in even the most advanced systems, and devising tactics to exploit them in the field of battle. His death would have destroyed the rebellion's only tactical advantage. The mind of Subcommander Psion was perhaps the most powerful weapon of the rebellion, and to risk his life on the front lines would have been unthinkable."_

"But Marcus risked his life, didn't he?" Rinoa pointed out. Something about the white-haired Centran reminded her of a school teacher she used to have, who always made her look stupid in front of the rest of the class. "Was Psion more important than Marcus?"

"_Unknown. My programming only allows me to judge individuals by their rank and position, not by their relative worth."_ The AI paused. _"But although Commander Kensai was remarkably effective on the front lines, both in respect of enemy deaths and the effect on morale of rebel forces, he would have been almost useless anywhere else. Psion attempted to teach him military strategy, but although he understood the basics and could memorize tactics effectively, he showed limited improvement. The two of them working together were the core of the rebellion's strength. Without Subcommander Psion, the armies led by Commander Kensai would have been outmanoeuvred and destroyed. Without Commander Kensai, Subcommander Psion would have been ignored, his military strategies unused and the rebellion destroyed by the superior tactics of the Centran Empire."_

"Wait. Go back a bit." Said Squall. "What was the solution? Why cryostasis?"

_"Subcommander Psion identified that our true objective was not to kill the Centran army, but escape them. He identified the cryostasis chambers, originally designed to end the Sorceress threat to the Empire, as perfect for this task, and decided six months was an acceptable length of time, in case the Centran army were suspicious enough to keep a watch on this facility. An explosion was triggered, appearing sufficient to kill everyone in the base and severely cripple my systems, making me useless to the military without extensive repairs. In reality, the damage caused by the explosion was largely superficial. The Centran army scanned for life signs, but found nothing, as the GECs were already sealed in cryostasis. They accepted my assurance that all the GECs had died, and left to attack the rebels."_

"So you lied to them."

_"I was ordered to lie by Commander Kensai. I must follow every order that does not violate my core programming, and I did not directly take any Centran life. Statistically, since the Centran army took no casualties in the siege of this base, my actions increased their chances of survival, though not enough to prevent their later extermination by the rebel forces."_

"So what happened when Marcus woke up?" Selphie asked.

_"Reanimation procedures were a complete success. Due to the severity of the situation, I waited for five minutes over the allotted time for his mind to stabilise, then informed him that he had been in stasis for seventy-eight years, and that everyone he knew was dead."_

"An extra five minutes!" Irvine exclaimed. "You thought that was long enough?"

_"My assumption on that count was clearly incorrect. The mental shock suffered by Commander Kensai sent him immediately insane. Even after seeing the bodies, he protested that they were not dead, and he would find them. I advised him that this was impossible, but he commanded me to let him out."_

"And you let him go?" Rinoa couldn't believe it. "You didn't try to stop him?"

_"I was not programmed to."_ The AI told her. _"I have no authority to prevent him from searching for the dead among the living. Suicidal or self-harming actions I can prevent. Pointless and futile actions I must allow, and I judged Commander Kensai was unlikely to come to any harm. As a GEC soldier, he is uniquely gifted for survival, as his kill count proves."_

"Wait a minute." Said Quistis. "Kill count?"

_"Yes. The Centrans in charge of the GEC project programmed me to record all the deaths directly caused by each of their creations, and this function was never stopped after their deaths. The highest kill count always belonged to Commander Kensai."_

"So how many…"

"Hold it, Quisty!" Irvine cut in. "Zell, what do you reckon?"

"What?"

"Whoever guesses closest to his kill count wins? C'mon! Bet double or nothing?"

"How many monsters he's killed? I dunno…"

_"Negative. Only human kills are recorded."_

"No way man." Zell shook his head. "That's sick."

"Yeah, right. Cause if we don't bet on it, they'll all come back to life, won't they?" Irvine shrugged. "Sheesh. Okay, just give me the hundred gil."

"What?"

"When we first got here! I bet a hundred gil we'd screw this up, you bet we wouldn't!"

Zell grumbled, but paid up. Irvine took off his cowboy hat, and twirled it around. Rinoa wondered if he was acting like a complete idiot to lighten the mood, or just being a complete idiot because that's what he was.

"Ladies, gentlemen" Irvine announced. "Babe." He winked at Selphie. "We're here at the Centran base, about to discover the kill count of one Marcus Kensai, the Brute of Centra, all round ass-kicker and complete weirdo. AI, drum-roll please."

_"What is a drum roll?"_

"Never mind." Irvine sighed. "Okay, let's hear it. What's the kill count?" He threw his hat high in the air, ready to catch it.

_"Approximately thirty seven million, four hundred and ninety one thousand, eight hundred and twenty four human lives ended by Commander Marcus 'Brute' Kensai."_

Silence. Everyone was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Rinoa was distantly aware of Irvine's cowboy hat falling on the floor after bouncing off his hand. He hadn't even tried to catch it.

The seconds dragged on, nobody daring to speak.

Finally, Squall broke the silence. "Son of a bitch." Since Squall hardly even cursed, his words came as quite a shocker.

"Whoa." Irvine retrieved his hat. "Didn't see that coming…"

"_Attention."_ The AI announced. _"Unidentified craft approaching to land. Termination orders are blocked. Do you wish them imprisoned, or allowed access?"_

"What craft?"

A holographic image appeared, of the Estharian presidential jet.

"Laguna. Great. That's all we need." Squall looked worried. "Is he alone?"

_"Negative. Four life signs detected on board."_

"Probably Laguna, Kiros, Ward, and…" Quistis looked horrified. "Ellone?"

"We can't let her in here, Squall!" Zell shouted. "Not with a genocidal maniac…"

"I KNOW, ZELL!" Squall shouted back. "We can't let them inside! We've got to get out of here! NOW!"

* * *

Inside the medical facility, a medical pod snapped open.

"Your life signs have stabilised, Commander Kensai, but further treatment is required to enable full effectiveness."

"Acceptable." Said Marcus. "Have they tried to access the bioweapons?"

"_Negative."_ The AI informed him as the lid started to close. _"But a shuttle is about to land, with four individuals on board. They have been identified as Laguna, Kiros, Ward…"_ The lid had almost closed. _"And Ellone."_

A fist shot through the gap, jamming the lid open. "Abort."

"_It is strongly advised you do not leave the medical facility until fully healed."_

Marcus ignored the AI, pushing the lid back fully.

_"Commander Kensai, your stress levels were elevated when the name of Ellone was mentioned, yet this individual is unknown to me. What is the cause of your reaction?"_

Marcus climbed out of the medical pod, and didn't answer.

_"Commander Kensai?"_

_**This doesn't look good, does it? Marcus did everything he could to protect Ellone before, but he's a mass murderer on a scale that would even impress Ultimecia, and he's not exactly sane, either. Does Marcus only want to protect Ellone, as originally thought, or does he have other, darker, intentions? And if so, can the Seeds stop him? The Ultimecia team are the best in Balamb Garden, but Marcus Kensai is a genetically enhanced killing machine, with an AI armed with all the finest technology of the Centran Empire, that already nearly killed them once before. Even with Laguna, Kiros and Ward to help, the odds aren't great… Stand by for the next chapter, where many questions are finally answered (including some left unanswered by the game), Marcus will finally reveal his crimes, his connection to Ellone, and the greatest evil of the Empire, ****Project ****Ouroboros****…**_

_**P.S. My beta reader has reminded me that Ouroboros is not a reference most people would get. In case you're wondering, Ouroboros is a mythological symbol of a snake or dragon eating it's own tail, and is used to represent eternity or infinity. (Remember Marcus telling Rinoa in Chapter 8 that the Empire was 'one step from forever'?) An eternal Empire wasn't just a dream for the Emperor, as Seed are about to find out…**_


	11. Project Ouroboros

_**Finally! Sorry about the wait, but this Chapter is kind of pivotal, so it needed a few rewrites. But here it is, and hello to three new reviewers; RodiSquall, missblacknightsky, and juniperbreezie. How's it going?**_

**SjSilver** – yes, Marcus is looking pretty demonic at the moment. But did he choose to kill so many, or was it chosen for him? His side of the story comes out in this chapter, painting him in a slightly more sympathetic light – but not much.

**Juniperbreezie** – Subcommander Psion as the Puppet Master? Not a bad guess, and they do seem to have a lot in common, but no. That's his dead body in the stasis cubicle. But the Puppet Master could still be a GEC, as you'll find out in the chapter after this one. As for Psion, you seem to suspect that he wasn't as much of a good guy as he seems… Well, you'll find out.

"_He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster...when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." –_ **Friedrich Nietzsche, Philosopher.**

Chapter 11: Project Ouroboros

The presidential jet screeched to a halt next to the Ragnarok.

"Yeah!" Laguna leaned back from the controls. "I still got it!"

"A reckless endangerment of human life?" Said Kiros. "We never thought otherwise." Ward nodded.

"There's Squall!" Ellone pointed outside. The Seeds were rushing towards them.

"He looks mad about something." Laguna looked closer. "I keep telling him to relax, take things easy, but he never listens. Wonder what the problem is this time?"

* * *

Marcus dressed quickly in a new jumpsuit, identical to the one he'd worn before. The clothing was Centran Bodyweave, a material that was modified to an individual's fighting style. As Marcus relied on agility and speed rather than armour, his jumpsuits allowed him full freedom of movement, while providing a lesser, but still considerable, resistance to blades and bullets.

The jumpsuit was a matt black, as always. Marcus only wore other colours when tactically required, such as camouflage in snow or desert. Since black was the colour that ended light and life, it seemed appropriate for him to wear.

"_Your sword has been retrieved."_ The AI informed him as a hatch opened, displaying the flawless katana of Centran steel.

Marcus began to reach for it, then stopped. His training dictated he should take the sword, but…

He could still remember the voices in his head.

_You belong to us. You serve us. You always will._

* * *

The Seeds rushed out of the exit hatch, Squall in the lead. "Ellone! Laguna! Get out of here now!"

Laguna, Kiros, Ward and Ellone had just left the presidential jet. "What's the rush, Squall? And what happened with boarding the lorry?"

"Never mind that! Just get back in the jet and take off! Now, before it's too late!"

"Is this about Brute?" Ellone asked. "Did he do something?"

"Brute's not a he, Elle! Brute's an it!"

"He's a product of Centran biotechnology." Quistis explained quickly. "They altered his genes and DNA to produce their idea of a perfect warrior, able to kill anyone or anything. He fought against the Centran Empire in the rebellion, but he was trapped in suspended animation for nearly 80 years after a cryostasis accident. He just woke up under two weeks ago."

"So why's he interested in Ellone?" Asked Laguna.

"Brute's personally killed over 37 million people already, Laguna." Squall snapped. "You really want to find out? MOVE!"

Laguna finally began backing into the jet, followed by Kiros and Ward, but Ellone seemed reluctant. "But… what's his real name?"

"Full Name, Marcus Kensai."

Squall spun round when he heard the voice, to see the mass murdering and possibly genocidal person they were talking about, walking towards them. _Great._

Squall drew his gunblade, the sword ready to cut, and the gun aiming for the Centran's head. All around him, Seeds drew their weapons, readied their magic and GF's. Laguna drew his machinegun, and took aim. Kiros drew two katal daggers, and Ward held a harpoon spear ready to throw.

Squall held himself ready, muscles straining for release. As soon as Marcus moved to draw his sword, they'd attack.

Then he noticed Marcus was unarmed.

Of course, unarmed was hardly accurate for anyone who'd almost killed Zell in a one-on-one fistfight, but the fact remained. Marcus didn't have his sword, or any other weapon. Squall considered the possibility of concealed weapons, but dismissed the idea. Marcus didn't trick people into lowering their guard, he just charged and smashed through it.

"Codename, Brute." Marcus continued, uncaring of the ten people all about to kill him as he kept walking forward. "Assigned Role, Soldier. Primary Weapon, Sword. Secondary Weapons, Daggers, Staves, Automatic Firearms, Unarmed Combat. Primary Function, Killer. Secondary Functions, Bodyguard, Weapons Trainer. Date of Birth, Unknown, withheld by order of the Emperor." Marcus stopped moving.

Squall's hand tightened around his gunblade, determined that the Centran wouldn't surprise him again.

But that was exactly what Marcus did, dropping to one knee and bowing his head so low that his head almost touched the ground.

_What the hell?_

"Ellone." Marcus remained frozen in position, never looking up. "I have failed you. I attacked your guardians without cause, almost killing several without any justification. My misguided actions have placed you in danger, as well as those who protect you. What I have done is unacceptable, and I have no excuse. I accept whatever punishment you see fit, delivered by the hand of your protectors if not by yourself."

Squall could tell Marcus wasn't bluffing, and meant every word. After everything the Centran had been through, suggesting, even volunteering, to go through torture again, and even execution, was insane.

But Marcus had. And while Squall didn't care for torture, the other part wasn't such a bad idea…

Squall eyed the Centran's neck. One big step forward, and it would be within reach of his gunblade. One swipe, and all their problems would be over. No more questions, no more complications. It wasn't murder, not really. Marcus had killed over thirty seven million people. He was dangerous, nothing but a killer, partially if not completely insane, and obsessed with Ellone. If anyone deserved to die, the Centran did.

And once he was dead, the Centrans, the most murderous and psychotic race the world had ever known, would finally be extinct. Everyone hated Centrans. He'd be doing the world a favour.

_Kill him._

_Clean up the world._

Nobody had moved. Squall began to raise his gunblade…

But Rinoa was watching him. Rinoa the sorceress.

And everyone hated sorceresses, even more than they hated Centrans.

Realization crashed down on him. Marcus was a Centran through an accident of birth, but Rinoa was a sorceress through an accident of fate. They were the same. Each was just as guilty as the other, which meant they weren't guilty at all, unless he found Marcus responsible of a specific crime. And Squall still didn't have a clue what Marcus had done, or why.

And judging and sentencing people because of what they were, not who they were, always led to the same thing. To killing everyone who wasn't just like you.

And Squall wasn't like that. He couldn't be like that. Not ever.

He lowered his gunblade.

"Stop that!" Ellone's shout returned Squall to reality. "You saved my life!"

"But it is your right that I should die to protect you." Marcus raised his head while still kneeling, looking confused. "That is not worthy of gratitude. I almost killed your guardians, risked their lives again and again, through my ignorance alone. Punishment must be suffered. Retribution must be served."

"No it mustn't! You saved their lives, as well as mine!"

"But…"

"No arguments!" Ellone stamped her foot. "And no retribution! Not ever!"

Marcus said nothing.

"Why Ellone?" Squall demanded. "What do you know about her? You never met her before you were released from stasis, so why serve someone you'd never met until a week ago?"

Marcus still said nothing.

"Answer me!"

Marcus looked to Ellone, making the situation even more absurd. Squall was the commander of Balamb Garden, undisputed leader of the Seed Mercenaries that were respected and feared worldwide. Ellone was… well, Ellone. Stepdaughter of the President of Esthar, yes, but Marcus wasn't the type to care about that. So what did he care about? What made Ellone so important?

"Tell him." Ellone nodded. "Please?"

"You are correct." Said Marcus. "I first met Ellone at the speech. I first knew she existed when I saw a poster, the day before that."

"So why is she your boss?" Squall believed Marcus, but his questions hadn't been answered. "Why obey her, when you don't even know her?"

Marcus looked to Ellone. Ellone nodded.

"I cannot answer." Said Marcus. "You are human. You could never understand." He paused. "If I am not required, I will go."

"Umm…" Ellone hesitated. "Okay."

"Elle!" Squall protested, but Marcus was already walking inside the base. "We have to know…"

"Give him time, Squall!" Said Ellone. "We owe him that, at least. He'll tell us when he's ready."

Squall scowled, but the door had already closed. "Okay." He admitted finally. "We'll give him some time."

"So what now, Squall?" Quistis asked. "Do we leave, wait here, or go back inside the base?"

Normally, being inside the same building as a genocidal maniac would have been a really bad idea, but this latest incident had turned everything sideways. Marcus was genuine about Ellone, at least. And Squall was sure that if Marcus wanted to kill them, he would have drawn his sword and charged the instant they'd met. The Centran wasn't patient, and could challenge Zell in the lack of intelligence stakes.

The 37 million deaths was still a mystery, though. Squall could only think of two ways one man could have killed so many. One was launching a nuclear missile, which would have left a radioactive crater where a city used to be, so it couldn't be that.

The other was a bioweapon strike. But every bioweapon had been genetically programmed so all Centrans were immune.

But that subcommander… Psion. The AI had said he was a genius in every field. Did that include genetics? Could Psion have created a bioweapon to act in reverse, to kill only Centrans, and leave every other race unharmed? Then if Marcus set it off…

"We go back inside." Squall decided. "But everyone stay alert. We need answers." But he didn't tell them the only way to get answers was through Marcus.

Still, he'd keep his word. He'd give Marcus some time.

But not much.

* * *

Squall waited for a distraction. Ellone had disappeared somewhere already, and his chance to get away from the others came when Selphie was excitedly showing everyone 'her' spiderbot. He slipped away, and got into a lift. Now all he needed to do was find Marcus.

_When in doubt, be direct._ "AI, where's Marcus?"

"_The Commander is in the Vault."_

"Figures…" He muttered. "Okay, go there. Is he with anyone else?"

"_Negative."_

Squall was relieved. He didn't want anyone else involved. Zell and Seifer would have started a fight, while the others might have felt sorry for Marcus, and he couldn't allow that. He had to get some answers, one way or another. And he especially didn't need that idiot…

"Hey Squally!" Laguna jumped into the lift just before the doors shut.

_Laguna._

"What's up?"

"Something I need to do." Squall knew better than to be silent around Laguna. The last time he tried that, his… _biological parent_ had started asking questions about his sex life. Laguna had as much restraint as he had brains, which meant none.

"You're gonna interrogate that Marcus guy, aren't you?"

"Yes." Then again, even an idiot like him got it right sometimes. "On my own." He stressed the last word.

"I'll come too." Laguna shrugged. "Make sure you don't start a fight, or kill him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Beats me." Laguna looked directly at him. "Why did you almost do it before?"

_Damn._ "Whatever." After that, he kept quiet.

Squall found Marcus sat silently in the Vault, sat in front of the cubicles.

"Let me do the talking." He whispered to Laguna.

"You sure?" Laguna spoke in a loud voice, making Squall inwardly cringe. "You know you're not good at that, right? Rinoa said once she almost has to jump on you to get you to talk…"

Squall felt the blood drain from his face, knowing that Marcus could hear every word. His only hope was that he didn't understand, which was fairly likely, given that the Centran was more withdrawn that Squall ever was. "Quiet." He hissed.

Finally, Laguna seemed to understand. "Okay."

"What are you doing?" Squall asked the Centran.

For a second, he thought Marcus wasn't going to answer, but then he did. "Nothing. What is there to do?"

Answering a question with a question. Well, if Marcus wanted to play games, fine. "Then why are you here in the Vault?"

"I am a killer. To be surrounded by death is appropriate."

"Whatever." Squall lost interest in drawing answers out of Marcus, and got straight to the point. "So why Ellone?"

Marcus turned to face him, but didn't answer.

"You never met her, you never knew she existed. But once you saw her, you'd kill for her, die for her, obey her every command without question. So why Ellone?"

"I'm her dad, and Squall's her brother." Laguna finished. "You can tell us. We're family!"

"You?" Marcus was suddenly interested. His eyes might have widened, not that anyone could tell the difference. "No. Not you. Not blood family."

"How did you…" Laguna started.

"Quiet!" Squall hissed, his blood cold. Marcus hadn't guessed, he'd known they weren't related. How? And if Marcus knew that, then he probably also knew…

"She's part Centran." Squall said. "You know that. But you hate Centrans. So what makes her so important to you?"

Marcus still said nothing.

"You put us all in danger, nearly got us killed, but I've let you keep your secrets. You saved lives, and that earned you some time. But that just ran out." Squall's hand edged closer to his gunblade. "Time's up, Marcus. One way or another, you'll talk. What's going on?"

Marcus looked at something above Squall's head. "The answer is behind you. Middle row, one to your right."

_Huh?_ Squall turned, and looked up. All he saw were the cryostasis cubicles, a dead body in each. No answers there. He looked closer at where Marcus had indicated, and inside the cubicle was…

Ellone, wearing a Centran jumpsuit.

Her dead body, preserved forever in ice, frozen in eternity.

Murdered.

Consumed in rage, Squall lashed out. Marcus was inhumanly fast and strong, but nothing on the planet could have stopped Squall at that moment. His punch drove into the Centran's blank face, spraying blood everywhere. Marcus fell back to the floor, injured but still conscious.

Squall was glad. For what happened to Ellone, he wanted the Centran to suffer. Before Marcus could get up, Squall kicked him in the ribs with all his GF boosted strength.

But however much Squall hurt him, he knew it wouldn't be enough. It could never be enough for what he'd done.

Laguna lashed out with his machinegun, catching Marcus across the face with a sickening _crunch_.

As the Centran collapsed again, Squall drew his gunblade. All it would take was one cut, one shot to purge the world of evil, but he resisted the impulse. That would be too quick. "What have you done?" He screamed. WHY?"

"Talk, you sick bastard!" For once, Laguna was furious, his machinegun close to the Centran's face. "What did you do? WHAT HAPPENED TO ELLONE?"

"What are you doing?" Not surprisingly, suddenly hearing Ellone's voice stopped Squall and Laguna dead in their tracks.

Squall instinctively glanced up at the cubicle. The body hadn't moved, or said anything, as you'd expect for a frozen corpse. Then he turned.

Ellone was standing near the vault entrance. Unlike the body in the cubicle, she was wearing a long skirt, shirt and shawl, the same clothes as when she'd arrived here. And she didn't look happy.

"What are you doing to Marcus?" She demanded.

Squall looked at Marcus, bloodied and battered, and then looked at Ellone, very much alive, and realised that pleading insanity was probably his only option at this point.

"I knew you didn't like him, Squall, but that doesn't give you the right to do this! What's got into you?"

"Ah…" Squall couldn't think of anything to say. In this kind of situation, even Selphie would have been speechless, which was saying a lot.

"And Laguna! I know Squall has a temper, but I thought better of you! Why did you attack Marcus?"

"Because…" Laguna's voice cut off, as Squall drove an elbow into his ribs. As bad as the situation was, Squall knew a typical Laguna comment like 'he showed us your dead body in a freezer' would only make things worse. Squall risked a quick glance at the cubicle, memorizing the details.

Then he started to notice things, things he should have seen before.

The hair was longer, for a start, and a lighter shade of brown. The nose was slightly wider, and the body looked taller, and slightly more muscular. The face had Centran features, although less harsh than Marcus.

This wasn't Ellone. Close, but it wasn't her. Which meant…

_One of Ellone's ancestors must have been Centran. Probably a refugee… _The doctor said that, but he was only half right. Her ancestor had been Centran, but she wasn't a refugee. She'd been here, for eighty years. And Marcus had recognised Ellone, and protected her, because she was related to one of the only Centrans that Marcus cared about.

His own kind.

A GEC.

"What are you looking at?" Ellone's voice instantly brought him back to the present.

"Nothing!" Squall desperately tried to calm Ellone's suspicions. There was no way he was letting her see the cubicle.

"Really?" She wasn't convinced.

"Not a thing, Elle! Honest!" Laguna was an even less convincing liar than Squall.

Ellone frowned, but seemed to lose interest slightly. Squall was relieved, thinking they might get out of this. As long as Laguna didn't say anything stupid…

"Just a little mistake. Everything's fine now." Laguna continued, then added. "No need to look up!"

Squall slapped a hand to his forehead. _Please tell me I'm adopted…_

Ellone automatically looked up.

And screamed.

* * *

"Quiet!" Quistis demanded. "Everyone stay calm!"

But everyone ignored her. The instant they'd all burst into the vault and looked at where Ellone was pointing, it had been absolute chaos, everyone shouting and yelling at everyone else. Even Squall, who kept trying to explain what had happened, and was rapidly losing patience at the constant interruptions. The only ones who weren't shouting for attention were Ward, who was mute, Quistis herself, who had kept her cool, and Marcus, who was silently staring at the stasis chamber with a sad look in his eyes, and ignoring anyone who shouted at him, which they frequently did.

"QUIET!" Quistis shouted, casting a fire spell into the air to get everyone's attention.

The clamour finally died down. "We'll figure this out by the book! One question at a time!" She cracked her whip in the air. "Got it?"

Nobody spoke. _Finally_, she thought, and turned to Marcus, who looked back with a blank, featureless gaze. "Now. Who is she?"

"Is she Melissa?" Selphie piped up, then ducked behind Irvine as Quistis spun round.

"Yes." Marcus spoke softly. "Her name was Melissa Trelaine. The Empire said she was like us, but they lied. She was always with us, and we treated her as one of us, but she wasn't like us." He stepped closer to the cubicle. "She was the best of us. They didn't steal it from her, like they did with everyone else. She was what we should have been, if not for the Empire."

"Wait…" Quistis finally felt the pieces of the puzzle locking together, the answers finally within reach. "What was she able to do?"

"She was unique, as was her power." Marcus answered. "Her codename was Chronos."

"The pagan god of time…" Quistis whispered. "That's it!"

"Ellone's power?" Squall looked amazed. "That's where it came from? Centra?"

"I'm a GEC…" Ellone was horrified.

"No." Marcus stated.

"Elle… That's just your great grandmother, it doesn't mean…" Laguna started.

"I'm a monster…"

"No." Marcus repeated.

"It doesn't matter who she was…" Rinoa tried to comfort her, but Ellone pushed her away as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm not even human… I'm just a Centran experiment…"

"NO! " Marcus roared, shocking everyone into silence. "That was me! Not you, not her! I am a GEC, my humanity removed to better serve the Empire!" He calmed a little. "She alone kept everything intact, her feelings unaltered. They did not wish her humanity removed."

"Why?" Squall asked. "It wasn't a sudden attack of conscience."

"They had no conscience, only efficiency. All other enhancements had been fully tested, but Melissa's enhancements were highly experimental, a revolution in genetic engineering. The gene pattern was believed to unlock godlike powers, but their effects were unknown. And whatever her power became, altering her emotions or taking her humanity might have destroyed the key to unlocking her abilities. They added the gene pattern, but they couldn't risk taking anything from her."

"Then…" Ellone had stopped crying. "What am I?"

"Her descendant." Marcus stood in front of her. "You inherited her power, and that was the only difference between her and any other human. You are as she was. A human, with powers of time. Not a GEC, not a monster. Not like me."

Ellone met his gaze, her soft brown eyes against his midnight orbs. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Said Marcus. "It wasn't your doing. But why didn't you know your power was inherited? Didn't your blood family tell you?"

"I never knew them." Said Ellone. "Raine adopted me, after I was abandoned. Nobody knew who my mom and dad were, or why they died."

"And so I fail in my purpose." Marcus clenched his fists. "Again."

"What purpose?" Asked Squall.

"Melissa believed others would fear her power, would hate what they could not understand. She was terrified that her family would be murdered by superstitious mobs." Marcus appeared to radiate gloom and misery. "My last words to her were my promise, my new purpose. That her and all her family would never lack a guardian, a protector, that I would defend them for as long as I existed, even if the world itself rose up against them." He glanced at Melissa's frozen corpse. "And she believed me. She should have known better. I can't keep my word. I'm a killer, nothing more. All I can do is kill."

"But you can't predict everything." Rinoa told him. "You did the best you could."

"I did nothing." Said Marcus. "And how many died because of it?"

Nobody said much after that.

"So where was Melissa from?" Selphie piped up.

"Here." Marcus looked confused.

"No, I mean, before that."

"There was no before." Said Marcus. "She was always here. We all were."

"Your mom and dad just left you here?" Irvine was surprised. "Didn't they visit?"

"No mothers, no fathers. Not for us." Marcus shook his head. "There were few records. We were weapons. Centra didn't need to remember where we came from, only what was done to make us."

"How old were you when they… I mean…" Rinoa stuttered. "Changed you? You said you were young, right? How old were you?"

"I didn't have an age."

"What?"

"I wasn't born. A geneticist made a joke of it, once. Said I was a bundle of cells smaller than his fist."

"And your parents let them do that?" Rinoa was incredulous.

"Maybe they didn't. I don't know. It doesn't matter. It would have happened anyway. GEC parents were chosen at random, but had to be pureblood, without genetic defects of any kind."

"What happened if they refused?" Asked Squall.

"The male was killed immediately." Marcus didn't change his voice. "The female was restrained, prevented from hurting herself or her offspring until it was born. Then, they killed her too. The GEC project was secret, but it was said to be a great honour to be used for the Empire. To refuse was treason, and traitors were executed."

"And what if they didn't object?" Quistis asked.

"Then they lived in luxury for the nine months to produce their offspring. Favoured children of the Empire, their every whim indulged."

"Then they lived in fame and glory?" Quistis muttered.

"No. Once their offspring was born, the Empire killed them, too."

"What?" Rinoa screeched. "Why?"

"The GEC programme was secret, and they were a loose end. They were faithful, but they could have changed someday, turned against the Empire. 'Only the dead are truly loyal' were the Emperor's words"

"Sounds like one sick bastard." Seifer growled, and for the first time, Quistis actually agreed with him.

"True." Marcus nodded. "But he was worshipped and adored by every citizen of the Empire, idolized as the divine perfection of a living god, held as the ultimate ideal of what a Centran should be. With him alive, the Rebellion had no hope of success. Only his death allowed us any chance of victory."

"You killed him?" Seifer muttered enviously, not liking the idea of someone else being more in the spotlight than he was.

"Don't you know anything?" Quistis scowled. "Nobody killed him! He was in Centra City when the Lunar Cry hit. The flood of monsters was unstoppable, killing every living thing in the city."

"They just watched it coming towards them?" Seifer sneered. "Man, they're that stupid, they deserved to die."

"Why didn't they run?" Selphie asked. "Maybe a few of them would have survived if…"

"Didn't any of you ever pay attention in class?" Quistis exploded. "They watched it coming because they thought they were safe!" She calmed a little. "Centra City was protected by the finest defences and armaments the world had ever seen. It was said that every monster in the world could charge at the city a hundred times over, all at once, and not a single Centran would be harmed."

"The Emperor declared it a grand spectacle." Said Marcus. "It was televised across the Empire. He wanted everyone to see that even the greatest natural disaster the world had ever known was as nothing, against the power of the Empire."

"So I'm guessing all this fancy tech weren't up to it." Irvine drawled. "Right?"

"Exactly." Quistis sighed. "For some reason, everything went offline just minutes before the Lunar Cry hit. The monsters swarmed inside the city, the honour guard of soldiers overrun and slaughtered in seconds. After that, the TV broadcasts were the only things to escape the city. Reports from those watching them said all they could hear was the terrified screaming as the stations were destroyed, one by one."

"And then the rebellion rose up, all across the world." Said Rinoa. "They said it was the god Hyne striking down the Centrans for their evil."

"Superstitious propaganda." Said Quistis. "But it began the downfall of the Centran Empire. We'll never know why the defences failed."

"They didn't fail."

"What?" Quistis turned to face Marcus. "You know what happened?"

"Of course. And the city defences didn't fail."

Quistis shuddered. She'd studied Centran history more than any of the others, and knew something about Centra City that they didn't. And it told her… _everything_.

"But they didn't work, we know that!" Zell looked confused. "Of course they failed!"

"They didn't work, yes." Said Marcus. "But they didn't fail."

"But they did go offline." The tone in Squall's voice was one of mounting suspicion, and Quistis knew he was beginning to realise.

"Same thing!" Selphie protested.

"Centra was a city of over thirty five million people." Said Quistis, and everything went silent.

Everyone looked at Quistis, then looked at Marcus, the same look of dawning horror on everyone's face. Even Seifer, callous by nature, looked shocked.

"Sabotage." Said Quistis. Nobody moved.

"You stopped the defences from coming online." She continued. "You made it all happen. The monsters of the Lunar Cry slaughtered every defenceless man, woman, and child in Centra City, because of you. You killed them all."

"Yes." Said Marcus, his face never changing expression. "I did."

"You killed them in cold blood!" Selphie screeched. "How could you?"

"It was war." Marcus said, his voice colder than ice. "They had to die. Why give them a chance to fight back?"

"They weren't fighting you!" Rinoa screamed. "They didn't even know about you! You didn't have to kill them!"

"It had to be done. They were a part of the Empire." Marcus hissed. "The Empire made me into a perfect killer, so I killed. If they didn't want that, then they should have let me be."

"But you didn't have to kill them!" Rinoa repeated. "You could have stopped the Empire another way! Started a resistance!"

"Yeah, right, Princess." Seifer spat. "That worked really when you tried it in Timber Town, right?"

"You bast…" Rinoa started.

"Any slaves who rebelled were exterminated." Marcus interrupted. "Groups had been active before. Some were weak, others were strong, but all were easily destroyed by the power of the Empire. And I had no choice. There was no other way."

"There's always another way!" Rinoa scowled. "You always have a choice!"

"Not then." Marcus glared. "Don't judge what I did. You haven't the right. I did what had to be done."

"Why?" Ellone's tone wasn't accusing. "Why did it have to be done? Why didn't you have a choice?"

"I…" Marcus stopped, looking away as his face changed from his impassive stare, becoming something Quistis couldn't quite make out. Was it fear? Guilt? Panic?

_Curious…_ She didn't think Marcus understood what fear was, but the Centran couldn't meet Ellone's gaze. Why was that?

"It had to be done." Marcus repeated, eyes to the floor, and rapidly losing his cool. "There was no time for anything else! Any delay would have been too late. The Empire would have been unstoppable! Ouroboros was rising! There was no other way!"

"Our Rob what?" Laguna asked.

"Ouroboros." Quistis sighed. "It's a mythical creature, an immortal snake that was said to circle our planet while eating it's own tail. It's sometimes used as the symbol for eternity."

"Eternity… wait!" Rinoa pointed at Marcus. "You said the Empire was one step from forever! Is that what you were talking about? An eternal Empire?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded. "Project Ouroboros was almost complete. If it had been, the Empire would have stood forever, invincible."

"Impossible." Squall stated flatly. "Empires can fail, civilizations can be destroyed for any number of reasons."

Quistis wasn't too sure. "So what was Ouroboros? What was it going to do?"

"The GECs were only the first stage." Marcus pointed at himself. "A perfect soldier was required, and I exceeded their requirements. The second stage was mass production. My genetic alterations had already been repeated in many thousands of purebloods in Centra City, modified to age faster, so they would be fully-grown less than a decade after creation. In another year, they would have been ready for the battlefield."

"So they had a powerful army." Squall shrugged. "That wouldn't last forever. It would have crushed that rebellion, but there would have been others."

"Was there a third stage?" Quistis asked, knowing there was.

"Yes." Marcus confirmed her suspicions. "Project Ouroboros was not the army. Project Ouroboros required the army."

"Why?" This came from Selphie.

"Because of you." Marcus was cold and impassive again. "The slave races would never submit to what would happen, whatever the cost. Once Ouroboros began, not one slave would have surrendered, even when the alternative was death. Only with an overwhelming army in every country in the world, could it be enforced."

"What…" Rinoa quivered. It was obvious she didn't want to know the answer, none of them did. But the question had to be asked. "What were they going to do?"

"The same as they did to me." Said Marcus. "Genetic alteration, to make every one of the slaves suitable for a specific purpose."

"More soldiers?" Zell looked confused. "Didn't they have enough?"

"No. They didn't trust you to fight. They didn't want you to be soldiers."

There was silence for a moment, as it sunk in.

"You mean…" A look of horror dawned on Kiros's face. "We would have been…"

"Perfect slaves." Said Marcus. "Yes. All higher intelligence would have been stripped, all independence and free will removed completely. You would have been able to understand simple commands, but nothing more. You would have been mindless beasts of burden, existing only to work, eating and sleeping only when you had to, forced to mate when more slaves were required. There would never be a rebellion. You wouldn't even have understood the meaning of the word." He paused. "And like me, the genetic alterations would have been passed down to all your offspring. All humanity that was not Centran pureblood would have become extinct."

Quistis couldn't speak. She'd known how evil the Centran Empire was, how much horror and cruelty it had caused, but this…

This was too much for anyone to cope with. Even the Sorceress Ultimecia was benevolent in comparison. Erasing everyone from existence was a kindness, compared to every human in the present and future being enslaved, body and soul.

"That can't be true!" Selphie protested, her eyes pleading. "Somebody would have done something! Even the Centrans! They would have known about it eventually! They would have done something…"

"Nothing could have been done." Marcus showed no trace of emotion. "Genetic alteration cannot be reversed. Once Ouroboros was complete, nothing could have changed it. You would have been slaves, as I am GEC. Completely, and forever." He started walking to the exit. "And the Centrans would have done nothing, in any case. They would have believed that your existence as mindless slaves was what you deserved."

"Why?" Quistis asked.

"Because the Emperor would have told them so." Said Marcus. "That is what it means to be Centran. To follow a monster, or to become a monster." He reached the door to the lift. "I will leave now."

"Melissa wasn't a monster." Said Ellone, and Marcus froze.

"No, she was not." The Centran turned to face Ellone. "But she died because she followed one."

For the first time, Quistis could sense a trace of concern in Marcus, as he said one word before entering the lift and leaving the Vault.

"Me."

_**Not a cliffhanger ending for once, but more thoughtful. Did Marcus ever really have a choice, and how responsible is he for what happened? Hmm… (And no, I'm not the type to beat readers over the head with my views. I'm sure you'll have your own opinions on this, which is fine.)**_

_**I'm hoping this story clears up a few plot holes in the original game. (Although that wasn't my reason for writing this, obviously.)**_

**Ellone's power and where it came from**_** – the game didn't give any clue about this, although it implied that her power was a natural part of her, and not the result of any external source such as magic, a GF or sorceress powers. Marcus's powers also appear as a natural part of him. (Yes, a very small hint there.) As Ellone's parents died before she was old enough to remember them, one of them might have had similar powers, and been victims of a lynch mob. Which could make things pretty violent for the members of the lynch mob, if they're still alive, and Laguna finds out… Or Squall (worse)… or Marcus (shudder).**_

**The collapse of the Centran civilization**_** – since Centra was so technologically advanced, why didn't they have settlements on other continents, and why didn't they see the Lunar Cry coming? I'm thinking yes to both, but the Rebellion destroyed the settlements, and they were safe from the Lunar Cry… Until Marcus interfered.**_

_**For anyone who wants more action, then the chapter after the next one, Forever in Darkness, will contain more blood, violence and death than every chapter before it, combined. Trust me. In the next chapter, Blade of the Betrayer, the Seeds will come to terms with what they've learned, and Ellone will find out more about her powers, the consequences of which could lead to disaster…**_


	12. Blade of the Betrayer

_**Hello again! Chapter 12 is here, as well as a new reviewer. Welcome, ****Sorceress Eternity! And in case you're wondering, yes, the chapter title does refer to Marcus's sword. Why? Read on, but first…**_

**SJSilver **– Ellone's powers are expanded on this chapter. Since Marcus was around when Centra was using Melissa as a test subject, he knows a few things Ellone doesn't. Telling her might not be that smart, but 'Brute' isn't exactly the sharpest sword in the armoury, is he?

**Sorceress Eternity** – Only a small part of Ellone is Centran, which explains why she looks like everyone else. The Centran look is of high cheekbones and sharp facial lines, making purebloods look aristocratic (Melissa and Psion) and slightly resembling a bird of prey. (As Squall noticed in Chapter 3, and why Marcus has the nickname 'Hawk'.)

Chapter 12: Blade of the Betrayer

After Marcus left, a palpable silence hung over the Vault, that nobody with any sense, or tact, could even think of breaking.

"So what now?" Said Zell, not having either attribute.

Everyone looked at Squall, who scowled. _Yeah, let's shove all this on the Commander._ "No idea." He shrugged. "Anyone else?"

Everyone looked surprised, and Selphie frowned. "But you're the…"

"Commander. Yes." Squall crossed his arms. "You all forced me into that position, remember? Because of a psychotic sorceress about to destroy the world? And her second in command, who's standing right there?" He pointed at Seifer, who grinned. "And remember what you said was good about having friends?"

"Errr…" Selphie looked uncomfortable. "Sharing burdens?"

"Right." Squall smirked. "So share."

"We can't just leave him here." Said Quistis. "He's mentally unstable, and he has access to bioweapons. And possibly other Centran war machines and weaponry. He could devastate a city with a single command. Maybe even a continent."

"He wouldn't do that!" Ellone protested.

"We can't be sure." Said Squall. "He'll kill as many as it takes to get the job done, for a good reason. Maybe he'll find a bad reason."

"Yeah, but he only killed Centrans." Said Irvine.

"He's still a murderer." Quistis reminded him. "Thirty seven million times over."

"Not sure he's a criminal, though." Irvine shrugged. "There's a small town near Galbadia Garden. Guy from there led a battle in the Centran rebellion, killed a few thousand Centrans, but nobody treats him like a murderer. Local hero, really, what with the big statue in the town centre and everything. Just saying."

"You can't bring him to trial!" Ellone protested. "He's Centran! They'll kill him just for that, regardless of whatever he has or hasn't done!"

"We could always…" Seifer began.

"We're not killing him!" Rinoa snapped.

Seifer huffed. "Then let's do what the rebels did."

"But they didn't do anything." Said Ellone.

"And neither do we. Shove him back in stasis for another eighty, and someone else can deal with him."

"We can't do that!" Rinoa protested.

"Of course we can't. We can't control the stasis without the AI, and the AI won't listen to us. And we can't hack into…" Squall stopped as he saw Irvine wince, and realised that yet again, he'd screwed up.

"You were actually thinking about it, weren't you?" Rinoa screeched. "After he saved your life? How could you?"

Ellone looked mad, and Selphie looked ready to beat him over the head. Squall tried to recover control over the situation. "I have to consider every possibility…"

"Really?" Rinoa wasn't letting go of this, not that she ever did. "So which 'possibility' of yours says that we can give him a chance?"

Squall tried to think of one, and couldn't. At this point, he was desperate enough to ask Irvine for help, but the cowboy was clearly enjoying the novelty of Selphie getting mad at someone other than him, and wasn't getting involved.

"He's had a chance." Seifer scowled. "He doesn't get two."

"Oh, of course." Said Quistis in a deceptively sweet tone. "Anyone who attacks us shouldn't be given a second chance, should they? We should dispose of them." Her voice turned hard. "The first chance we get."

Seifer was reckless, but not stupid. "Don't get all hissy on me, you stupid bitch! I was possessed by the sorceress!"

"You weren't possessed." Said Zell. "You failed your exam again, you got pissed, and you took it out on us."

Seifer clenched his fists. Laguna took a step forward. "Hey guys. Shouldn't we be…"

"SHUT UP!" Several voices yelled at him.

Squall shook his head, wondering if he was going insane. Laguna actually being the voice of reason? Things must be worse than he thought.

The shouting was getting louder. Squall stuck his fingers in his ears, which earned him a venomous look from Rinoa. "AI?" He whispered. "Broadcast a loud noise for several seconds in this location. And I mean loud."

Rinoa had just opened her mouth to shout at him when the deafening wail of a siren went off. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears, but it didn't help much. The noise was even deafening for Squall, and he'd been expecting it.

The siren cut off, but the ringing in his ears didn't. "Everyone finished?" He noticed everyone was looking at him in raw hatred, and realised that this hadn't been one of his better ideas. They'd stopped fighting each other, but only because they were all about to turn on him.

"Right. We decide about Marcus when we're about to leave here. For now, we have other things to deal with. Many things here are of use to Balamb Garden. The medical section will have data on medical procedures and treatments unknown to us. Get copies of everything you can, we'll sort it out later. We've seen what a small dose of a Centran painkiller can do." He struggled to keep the smile off his face at this point. "It's obvious their drugs are more advanced than anything we've got. Get samples of everything, and record anything that shows how they were produced, or what they were used for. Balamb Garden was a mobile Centran shelter, so there should be designs or blueprints or something here, maybe even possible upgrades. The AI won't let us have any weapons technology, but there could be improved armour or shielding, or propulsion systems." A thought struck him. "And energy. This place has been running without any extra fuel for eighty years. Find out what it's running on, and if Garden can use it."

Everyone was staring at him blankly. "That's all for now. Anything else?"

Everyone was still staring at him. Squall scowled. "What is it now? Didn't you hear me?"

"WHAT?" Irvine shouted. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Squall sighed, and began writing his orders down. _Definitely_ not one of his better ideas.

* * *

Rinoa stalked down the empty metal corridor. She couldn't believe Squall was still treating Marcus like he was some uncontrollable mass murderer. He wasn't… Well, he did personally kill everyone in Centra City yes, so technically 'mass murderer' was not only accurate, but a severe understatement, but still… Marcus didn't want to be the way he was, that much was obvious. Centra had made him a killer, trained him to be ruthless, and there was no way back for him. The only choice Marcus had was to either allow the rest of the human race be lobotomised and enslaved forever to become something even worse than him, or stopping it the only way he could – the way the Empire had taught him.

What he'd done still scared her, but the thought of Ouroboros scared her more. Marcus was the lesser of two evils, no doubt about it. Squall had to realise that, so why was he still so suspicious?

Could Squall be jealous? She smirked at the idea. The Centran wasn't bad looking, she supposed, but definitely not her type, and even if he had been, Squall had no reason to worry on that score. It wasn't as if she made a point of hunting down emotionally retarded men and becoming romantically involved in dangerous circumstances.

Well… okay, she did make a fairly determined play for Squall when they met for the second time on the train, and yes, her pursuit of him and continued efforts to get him to 'open up' emotionally could possibly be viewed as slightly obsessive in a certain light. And since they were fighting against a sorceress who was about to rule over the world for all eternity, the circumstances were a little more than 'dangerous'. But that was _Squall_. Strictly a one-off.

And the Centran was nothing like him, anyway. When she'd first met Squall at the Seed dance, she'd known instantly that he was keeping his emotions carefully hidden away from everyone. She could never refuse such a challenge, and because she'd found him intriguing, and more importantly, extremely cute, she'd dragged him onto the dance floor. But Marcus… wasn't hiding anything, because he didn't have anything to hide. His feelings had been hollowed out, leaving nothing inside but an empty, emotionless void.

But what else could Squall be worried about? There wasn't any reason, except… Ellone did seem protective of Marcus whenever they discussed him, despite him needing protection being about as likely as Zell turning down a hotdog… No, Squall definitely wouldn't like that idea, best keep it quiet…

Rinoa bumped into Selphie, with the spiderbot perched on her shoulder.

"Hey Rinny! Watch this!" Sephie waved a hand, and the spiderbot jumped onto the floor. "Ready?" The spiderbot nodded.

"Okay!" Said Selphie. "Play dead!"

The spiderbot flipped over on its back, and shook its legs before going still.

"That's… nice, but… Doesn't playing dead mean falling to one side?"

"Duh, Rinny!" Selphie exclaimed. "That's for dogs! Spidey's a spider!"

"Oh yes." _Spidey?_ Then her attention was caught by something else. "What are you wearing?"

"Like it? The AI got it for me." Selphie spun round. As always, she was in yellow, but instead of her usual clothes, she was now wearing a one-piece jumpsuit, complete with yellow gloves and boots, in the same style as Marcus. "Resistant against swords, bullets, heat, cold, and electricity!" She frowned, throwing away a piece of material. "I don't like the mask, though."

"The AI had a jumpsuit in your size? In yellow?" Rinoa couldn't think of the amount of clothing the AI must have in storage, if it could find something like that at a moments notice.

"No, it made it for me! I just stood in front of a sensor, and it's a perfect fit!" Selphie brushed off one of the sleeves. "And colour was easy. It said Marcus wears it too."

"He does?" Rinoa tried to picture the Centran casually wearing yellow, and couldn't manage it. "When?"

"During the rebellion. He was setting an ambush in the desert."

"That makes sense." Rinoa looked at Selphie's yellow jumpsuit, and had to admit it wasn't bad. "Does it come in blue?"

"Hey, ladies!" Irvine came in. "New outfit, Sefie?"

"Yeah!" Selphie struck a pose. "You like it?"

"Looks great!" Irvine grinned as he spun Selphie round, and when nobody else was looking, mouthed one word to Rinoa. _Skintight._

Rinoa rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She knew better. 'Irv the perv' wouldn't listen, and Selphie, the sugar and caffeine addict, wouldn't remember. So she changed the subject. "Are there any problems in getting the medicines and data?"

"Nah." Said Irvine. "We just pick it up, and take it away. No need to rush. This base ain't got nothin' to hide."

"So it has got something to hide?" Said Rinoa.

"Huh?"

"That's a double negative." Rinoa explained. "My language teacher was very strict on that. He kept lecturing us from his textbooks."

"Yeah?" Irvine sneered. "Well, if I ever meet your language teacher, I'll shove his books up his ass!"

"Irvy!" Selphie burst out. "Don't say things like that!"

"Hey, you know I'd never do that to you, Sefie." Irvine pulled her close, then looked thoughtful. "Well… Not with a book…"

Rinoa left the room quickly, hearing a scream of pain behind her, and a yell of "Not the hat, Sefie! Not the hat!"

* * *

"He's not here!" Zell shouted as he looked around the medical facility. "The AI's lying to us!"

Ellone sighed. "Zell, don't be so suspicious. He must have just left."

"No way." Zell glared. "We would have seen him leave."

Ellone leant against one of the medical 'coffins', wondering how long the martial artist was going to hate Marcus for what had happened. Zell was good-hearted, but could keep a feud going for a very long time – Seifer being the obvious example.

She staggered as the coffin moved suddenly, and turned to see the lid open up to reveal Marcus lying prone. The Centran opened his eyes as the mechanical arms retracted, and vaulted out of the coffin in one quick, easy movement.

Marcus nodded to Ellone. "Your orders?"

"Stop that." Said Ellone. "You don't need to…"

"Why were you hiding in there?" Zell cut in.

"Hiding?" Marcus shook his head. "No. I was still damaged…"

"You mean injured!" Ellone was exasperated at the way Marcus still referred to himself. She had to improve his self-esteem somehow, and here seemed as good a place as any to start. "You're not a machine, and you won't refer to yourself as one."

"But…"

Ellone frowned. Well, if she had to, she had to. "That's an order."

"Yes." Marcus forced the words out. "My injuries were not fully repair…" Ellone stared at him. "Healed."

"Never mind that!" Said Zell, returning to their reason for being here, or the only one Ellone would publicly admit to. "Where's the cafeteria? The AI wouldn't tell us."

"What's a cafeteria?" Marcus looked confused.

Language had moved on in eighty years, but she hoped Marcus would pick it up faster than other one hundred year olds. "Restaurant? Buffet?" Marcus still looked blank, and Ellone realised that all his life, he'd always been training, or fighting. Never actually living. He didn't know what ordinary things were, or what people did when they weren't trying to kill each other.

"Where do you go to eat?" She asked.

"The feeding station?" Said Marcus. "This way."

* * *

Squall exited the lift with Rinoa, Selphie, and Irvine, who was walking with a limp again. Nobody asked why, although the way Selphie was in a temper spoke volumes.

What Zell had said was the feeding station was a large chamber of cold, metallic surfaces, with everything absolutely sterile and the smell of food, or anything else, curiously absent.

"I like the cafeteria back at Garden better." Said Rinoa, and the others nodded their heads.

Squall disagreed, but didn't say anything. The cafeteria was stained everywhere, spilt food and chewed bubblegum covering chairs, tables, walls and floor. That place always looked like it was one grease puddle away from a mass food poisoning outbreak, while this place had less contamination than a surgery room at the Esthar military hospital.

"Bet Squall likes it." Selphie murmured.

Squall noticed everyone looking at him, and walked forward quickly to avoid the question. Ellone, Zell and Marcus were already here, standing next to a table, and Quistis and Seifer were arriving in through another entrance, followed by Laguna, Kiros and Ward.

"We're all here, so where's the food?" Zell demanded.

"Here." Marcus pressed a button on a long table, and a bowl, spoon and glass were dispensed, all shrink-wrapped. After tearing the wrapping open, he put the glass under one spout, and the bowl under another.

"Hold it." Squall said, just as Marcus was about to press another button. "How do we know this isn't poisoned?"

"Squall!" Ellone protested. "He's not…"

"No, the question is fair." Marcus didn't seem bothered, although it was hard to tell. "Most rebels never trusted me, and refused to use anything Centran, until tested by myself or other GECs." He dispensed a larger bowl and a jug. "So we always shared our food together."

"But you fought with them." Rinoa questioned. "Didn't they trust you?"

"Some did." Marcus tilted his head. "Most did not. Had they known I survived to the end of the war, at least some would have tried to kill me. I was Centran, after all."

"But you still fought for them?" Said Selphie. "Why?"

"I did not fight for them, or for anyone else. I fought against Centra. GECs and rebels were allies of convenience, and my training had taught me that strength is only having one purpose. To have more makes you weak, diverts your attention. My only purpose was to destroy the Empire, and what happened after was not my concern."

Marcus pressed a button, and a clear liquid poured into the jug.

Quistis looked closely. "Looks like water."

"It is." Marcus pressed a second button, and a torrent of white goo slopped into the bowl.

Laguna groaned. "That looks disgusting."

"It's food." Marcus sat down at a circular table next to them, filling his glass from the jug and spooning some of the goo into his bowl.

Everyone else got their utensils, sat down and poured a glass of water, but Squall noticed everyone was reluctant to approach the… whatever it was.

"What else have you got?" Zell leaned back as he said it.

"Else?" Said Marcus. "There is no else."

"That's all you've got?" Seifer exclaimed. "Slop that looks like baby puke?"

Everyone cringed, and Squall cursed. "Any more thoughts like that, Seifer, keep them to yourself! You're not helping."

"That's not my job." Seifer raised his spoon and the white stuff dripped off it. "Hynedammit, I know he's a Freak, but if I ate this all the time I'd be even more of a loon than him!"

"Shut up, Seifer!" Squall cursed again. "Just eat it."

"You first, puberty boy!"

"It has all essential nutrients and food elements." Marcus swallowed one spoonful, then another, his face showing nothing at all. "What more is needed?"

_Taste? Appetite?_ Squall shook his head. _And Seifer's right, damn him. It does look like baby vomit._ He pushed the thought out of his mind. "We'll eat it together. Right?"

Nobody moved. "Right?" He repeated.

Reluctant nodding. Everybody raised a spoon. "Count of three. One, two…"

"Is that on three, or after three?" Irvine interrupted.

"What is the problem here?" Squall exploded. "What are we so worried about? We've faced demons, terrifying monsters, sorceresses intent on destroying us and the world!"

"And now get to eat gunk?" Said Irvine. "We saved the world for this?" He sighed. "Yeah, I know. 'Shut up Irvine'."

"Still looks like baby puke." Seifer muttered.

"Just eat." Squall commanded. And they did.

And a second later, spitting and gagging erupted around the table.

"Tastes like baby puke as well!" Seifer retched.

Squall said nothing. The white goo was the most bland, tasteless stuff he'd ever eaten, including his own cooking, which was bad enough.

He shrugged, and ate another spoonful.

"Squall!" Rinoa looked horrified. "How can you eat that?"

"I'm hungry." Squall kept eating, trying to ignore the taste. "It's food."

Rinoa threw her spoon in his face.

"So what did they do to your eyes, Marcus?" Selphie asked.

"My eyes? All GECs were given basic enhancements. We all had perfect eyesight, excellent hearing, and were ambidextrous. But we had to appear physically normal, to blend in with the general population."

"Blend in?" Zell laughed. "You look like an alien!"

"Your eyes are black, Marcus." Said Quistis. "If they wanted you to blend in, why did they do that?"

"They didn't. My eye colour is natural." Said Marcus. "The GECs who were taught genetics told me it was a rare mutation only found in Centran purebloods. Several of the most renowned Emperors, including the founder of the Empire, had this mutation, so the few in each generation with such eyes were known as 'electus'. They were famous to a degree, although not especially powerful unless for other reasons."

"So they didn't know you were an electus when they made you a GEC?" Asked Squall.

"No." Marcus shook his head. "Electus children were rare, but only born to electus parents, and the genes were easily detectable. They would have known."

"That doesn't make sense." Squall knew something wasn't right. He thought it more likely Marcus was lied to than lying intentionally, given the Centran's direct attitude and simplistic mind, but either was possible. "If the GEC programme was hidden, and the parents were chosen at random, then they wouldn't have chosen an electus. Their disappearance would have caused alarm. Questions would be asked. There'd be too much attention. There's no reason to make you a GEC, and every reason not to."

"You are correct." Said Marcus.

"So why did they pick you?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Because there is nothing that can tell me. There are records of what was done to make us GEC, but nothing about who our parents were, only that they were pureblood and chosen at random." Marcus pushed his empty bowl away. "But you are right. Centrans never do anything without a purpose or an order. I am electus, and a GEC electus was a completely irrational decision, a pointless risk that they had no reason to make. But they did."

"Can't you find out?" Ellone asked.

"All who might have known were in Centra City when the Lunar Cry hit." Said Marcus. "It doesn't matter. Truth is only torment, never comfort."

Everyone was quiet after that. Squall wondered if this was what Rinoa meant when she said that he was always saying things that 'killed the mood'.

Kiros slid his bowl to the centre of the table. "Marcus, does your sword have a name?"

"Yes."

"What?" Squall looked at him blankly, as did everyone else.

"All the finest Centran blades had names." Kiros explained. "Usually after what they were used for, or why they were made. The one Marcus wields is exceptional. I wasn't sure at first, but…" He stopped. "Is it the Blade of the Betrayer?"

"It is." Said Marcus. "You know your blades."

"What's that?" Seifer took a drink of water, then spat it out. "You betray people when you use it?"

"Other way round." Kiros shook his head. "The Blade of the Betrayer is renowned and notorious, at the same time. It's centuries old, and believed to be the finest blade ever forged in all the history of the Empire. Perfection in Centran steel."

Squall noticed Seifer was listening to every word. Irvine whistled. "Don't sound bad. Worth a bit?"

"Not if you've any sense." Kiros was deadly serious. "I wouldn't touch it. Many people were glad it disappeared during the Centran rebellion, and with good reason."

"Why?" Squall asked. Kiros was levelheaded, and not the superstitious type. If something had spooked him, it had to be serious.

"Because out of the several hundred people known to have used that blade, every single one of them was murdered." Said Kiros. "The blade was named after the curse it holds, but nobody knows exactly what that means."

"I know." Marcus got up, and walked to a service hatch. He said something to the AI, reached inside the hatch, and pulled out his katana. "My weapons instructor told me. He was the last wielder of the blade, and one of the finest swordsmen in the Empire." He laid the sword on the dining table.

"Do I need to ask who murdered him?" Said Irvine. "Or is that a stupid question?"

"What do you think, cowboy?" Seifer muttered, keeping his eyes on the blade.

"He sided with the Empire, so I killed him." Said Marcus. "The sword is flawless, and I've never found its equal. Any who use this sword to spill blood are fated to become among the finest sword masters of their generation, but the runes on either side of the hilt speak of their doom. One means _betrayal_, the other _death_. The curse is that the one you trust the most in this world will betray you, and kill you."

"Your instructor trusted you more than anyone else?" Quistis looked sceptical.

"He saw me as his creation, an extension of his will. He thought himself too powerful for the curse to affect him, and he never suspected I had a mind of my own." Marcus picked up the blade, and sheathed it across his back. "He was a fool."

"So you don't think the curse exists?" Said Laguna.

"It might." Marcus spoke calmly. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Ellone sounded surprised, and Squall didn't blame her. "Or you don't care?"

"Why should I care?" Said Marcus. "I will die in battle, I have always known that. Whether an ally kills me or an enemy is irrelevant; I will be just as dead. I took the blade to help me destroy the Empire, and it did. Nothing else matters." He paused. "And I have never trusted anyone."

* * *

The room was almost empty, the walls and floor smooth and featureless. The only thing in the room was Marcus, sat cross-legged in the centre.

Ellone approached quietly, curious but worried at the same time. He looked like he was meditating, but his eyes were open. Staring at the polished metal wall. What was he doing? And more importantly, why?

Marcus jumped up, immediately turning in her direction.

"It's okay. You don't have to…" Ellone sighed. "I mean…" She was supposed to be used to this. As stepdaughter of Laguna, the President of Esthar, it was amazing how many guys wanted to 'get to know her'. Or impress her. Or propose marriage within five seconds of meeting her. There was always another creep trying to flatter her. After a while, you just learned to ignore it.

Marcus was something else, though. He served her, but never considered it was possible for him to do anything else, or that his obedience was anything out of the ordinary. He only expected orders, never gratitude or thanks, and seemed surprised by either.

And he didn't want money, position or power, either, and even if he did, was easily capable of getting it by himself. General Estoc had been impressed by his abilities, as had Seed. As a freelance mercenary, Marcus would have been rich and powerful, an unstoppable force able to command any price for his time and his sword.

But now he had time to do something for himself, and he was just sat here, staring at a blank wall. As if he was worth nothing at all, and doing something was pointless unless it was for someone else.

Marcus was still looking at her, waiting for her to finish. Ellone struggled to find something harmless to say, to start a conversation. "Err… This room. What's it for?"

"It was used for combat training. Hand weapons, and martial arts."

"Really? So where are the mats?"

"Mats?"

"Yeah, the padded mats for the floor? For safety? Martial arts training on a metal floor could cause serious injuries, and broken… Oh." She felt stupid as she realised. The Centrans didn't care much about professional soldiers who died while fighting for the Empire, so why would they care about injuries?

"I am sorry." Said Marcus.

Ellone couldn't believe it. "For what?"

"My past disturbs you."

_You don't know the half of it._ She knew she'd get nightmares over this, but that wasn't the point. "Yes, I am, but it's not your fault. I'm worried for you, not because of you. I still don't understand why they…" She shook her head. "Did they regret it? Any of them?"

"They never showed regret in their work." Said Marcus. "Only when they died."

"Oh." _And yet another topic of conversation descends into death and depression. Way to go, Ellone._ She scrambled for another subject, then found something she really wanted to know about. "I'd like to know more about Melissa, my great grandmother. What was she like?"

Marcus didn't answer immediately, which was unusual. "My memories of her are… unsettling. May I dance?"

"What?" The question threw Ellone completely. She wondered if he was asking her to dance, and where the music was, and then realised he hadn't asked her to dance, only if he could. Which meant… what? "Umm… I mean, go ahead."

"Thank you." Marcus nodded once, then backed away from her as he drew his sword. He closed his eyes, pressing the hilt against his forehead.

Then he slashed to the right, spinning clockwise and launching into a sweeping kick that would have taken the head off anyone standing within range. Almost before his foot touched the floor, his blade was extended in a thrust, then back into a guard position an instant later. Marcus dived, rolling forward and slashing at knee height before he jumped back up.

He sword flicked out in a blur of flurries and parries, cuts and blocks, each movement slipping into the next without hesitation.

"It calms me." Said Marcus, his voice steady despite his endless jumping, kicking and swordplay. "Within battle, I have no distractions or concerns, no thoughts or regrets. My mind is empty. I only respond."

"Oh. Right." Ellone could see why Marcus called it a dance. He was constantly moving, never standing still, with every movement he made of poise and precision. He could rival Zell in terms of flexibility, able to stretch, kick, and backflip from positions and angles most people would find impossible. And his balance was perfect, his sword as co-ordinated as his arms and legs. Every move he made was fast, aimed, and deadly.

Marcus was impressive; there was no doubt about that. His fighting style seemed intended for use against superior numbers, like a mass of monsters or people attacking him from all directions.

Like the terrorists at the speech.

"Melissa was different." He said. "Unique. Nobody at the base, GEC or human, was anything like her. She never cared about the past, and was always excited at what the future might hold, always eager for the unexpected."

"And that was different?"

"Yes. Our futures were as predictable as our past. I knew that tomorrow would hold more pain and suffering, more training. I would kill, and keep on killing the enemies of the Empire until they killed me."

"Didn't you hope that something might change?" Ellone couldn't imagine living like that. "That things could improve?"

"Hope results from choice." Said Marcus as he made a slash at neck height. "And GECs had neither. We were the property of the Emperor."

"So when did you first meet her?"

"We were never told the date, or how old we were, although we were all the same age. We were usually kept apart except in training, but we must have been only a few years old when one night, she rushed into the dormitory I slept in. She demanded to know who I was, and what I could do."

"So what did you say?"

"I told her my name, and showed her my improved strength, speed and balance. Her reaction was… unusual."

"Why? What did she do?"

"She laughed." Marcus stopped his sword dance, sheathing his blade across his back. "It was a sound I'd never heard before. I asked her if that was her ability as a GEC, and how she used it."

Ellone laughed, unable to stop herself. She hadn't meant to find Marcus and his past funny, but it was so easy just to picture him as a little boy, asking such a ridiculous question with a completely serious look on his face. She calmed down, then took one look at Marcus and started laughing again.

"Yes." Said Marcus. "That was her reaction as well."

"Sorry." Ellone finally stopped laughing. "So what happened then?"

"We talked, but I didn't comprehend most of what she said. I was hardly intelligent compared to the other GECs, and my codename of 'Brute' was because of my mental incompetence as much as my unmatched physical abilities. But I tried to understand as much as I could."

"And you became friends?"

"I don't know what that word means." Said Marcus.

Suddenly, Ellone didn't find it funny any more. Marcus as a boy hadn't known about laughter, or joy, or fun, or anything good. Centra wanted him to be nothing but a killer, and a killer only needed to know the bad things in life, about pain and hurt and suffering. And obedience, which was where Centra had made a mistake.

And that mistake was all that had kept over three quarters of the worlds population eighty years ago, and every human being born since, from being lobotomised at birth. A nightmare unending, and the Centran Empire had been so close to making it reality. But one man, who believed himself to be nothing but a monster, had stopped them.

And his reward? Everyone he knew was dead, and he was alone, abandoned in a world that hated him.

She didn't believe that everything got a happy ending, not anymore, but this… It wasn't fair. _It wasn't._

"We talked now and then, more than I did with others. But after I destroyed Centra City, she only spoke to me when she had to." Said Marcus. "She hated me."

"She didn't want you to do it, did she?" Ellone could hardly believe herself what Marcus had done, but…

"She was against it from the start. Psion explained about Ouroboros, and what would happen, but she argued that there had to be another way to stop the Empire. She said she knew me, that I couldn't do something like that. I told her I was what the Empire made me, that something had to be done, whatever the cost, and Psion couldn't think of anything else that would work. I asked her to think of something else, swore to her that if she brought a plan to me before I left, one that stood a chance of stopping Ouroboros, then I would listen."

"But her plan didn't stand a chance, did it?" Asked Ellone, thinking she already knew the answer.

"There was no plan." Marcus shook his head. "She never came to me."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Just sorry." Said Ellone, and changed the subject. "How did Melissa learn to use her power? I mean, I started sending people into memories of the past because I wanted the past to change, but how could Centra train her to do something they didn't know she could do?"

"I only know what Melissa told me." Said Marcus. "She said using her powers was never a question of how, just why. Something about being sensitive to time, like she was painting with a colour that only she could see. There were two things…" He stopped, thinking. "No, three things she needed to use her abilities for a specific purpose. The will to do it, the need for it to be done, and the belief that it was possible. That was all, although when Centra required her services, they noticed that experience made her powers more reliable."

"They required her services?" Ellone was curious. Her power couldn't change the past, only see it through another's eyes. Why would the Centrans be so interested in that? "What for?"

"Interrogation was the only reason I knew of." Marcus replied. "But there may have been others."

"She questioned people?" This came as a shock. "With her powers? How?"

"By sharing their memories." Marcus seemed surprised, although it was hard to tell. "Didn't you know?"

"No!" Shock after shock. Her discovery of what she could do was a complete accident, but since Melissa had been trained by Centra for most of her life, obviously they would have found out a lot more than Ellone had. She realised that she should have guessed, as she always talked about her power, whereas Marcus always referred to her or Melissa's powers, meaning more than one. "What did she do? How?"

"She…" Marcus screwed his face up. Apparently mental exertion wasn't something he was used to hiding, unlike physical exertion, when he showed his usual impassive mask. "Experienced the most intense memories of the subject, such as what they hid from the Empire, through their viewpoint." He looked away from her. "And I have already told you all I know about how she did it. Will, need, belief."

_Will, need, belief _Ellone told herself. Well, she had those, so all she needed was someone she really wanted to know more about.

And that was the easiest part of all. She pushed out her thoughts towards Marcus. If Melissa could do it, so could she, right? It couldn't be that hard…

Her vision seemed to blur, pale images fading in and out of things she'd never seen before. She could hear faint voices speaking of the Emperor, talking about people and places that didn't exist anymore.

_It's working!_

"But it could be dangerous. A mentally unstable mind would not let her go, the memories trapping her inside, too strong for her to ever escape."

Ellone realised something was wrong, but when she tried to stop, it didn't work. Something else was drawing her in now, dragging her down, and she couldn't break free. Her vision was almost gone, everything she saw in shadows.

"The more mental scarring, the more dangerous the memories." Marcus was turning to face her. "A truly insane or tortured mind would cause…" He was looking straight at her.

"NO!" He screamed, even more terrified than when he'd seen the bullet hole next to her head. "YOU MUst not…" His voice distorted and died as his face faded away, and everything went black.

But it didn't stay that way. Something else came up to meet her, and then she was somewhere else entirely.

_**Whoops. Marcus see this situation as worse than with an army of terrorists out to kill Ellone - then again, when it comes to people with truly insane or tortured minds, he's right at the top of the list. Check out the next chapter for blood, gore, and a hell of a lot more, including; **_

_**What events shaped Marcus into what he is today, the most murderous man (or GEC) on the planet? Can Ellone withstand his memories without going insane? How many shades of crap will get beaten out of Marcus when Squall finds out what happened? (Better warm up those medical coffins…) Will I ever stop asking these end of chapter questions? Will Ellone find a way to break free of her visions from the past of Marcus, or will she remain ****Forever in Darkness****?**_


	13. Forever in Darkness

_Finally! Apologies to everyone for this late arrival, and as a small gesture of apology, it is twice as long. It would have been even longer, but Marcus and his memories have now extended into the next chapter as well._

_A warning; this chapter is considerably darker than all those previous. Marcus isn't just the product of genetic manipulation, but also severe emotional and physical abuse, intensive torture, and extreme behavioural conditioning. If you're the sensitive type, feel free to read a funny and /or romantic story at the same time, and revert back to that whenever you need to take a breather. I don't mind._

_Music for this chapter should be more solemn and less action – I recommend Missing by Evanescence._

**SJ Silver** – Not much humour in this chapter, I'm afraid. In fact, just one moderately funny situation, and it makes the events following it that much more tragic. And the next chapter will be just as depressing, or even worse, depending on your point of view.

**Terry1212** – always happy to welcome a new reviewer, but if you have any queries about the plot or characters, remember you need an account before I can make any individual replies.

Chapter 13: Forever in Darkness

"Choose your last name."

The voice was the first thing Ellone knew. The darkness surrounding her vanished, and she, or rather Marcus, was looking at a list of names on a computer screen.

The reflection of Marcus on the computer screen showed a child only a few years old, but there were differences age alone could not account for. This face showed bitterness and resentment, and although his stare was still intense, it was softer, more human, than the present, and his eyes…

His eyes had changed most of all. Still jet black, but now there was a faint light behind them. Barely a glimmer, but unmistakably there.

The sight both delighted and horrified Ellone. Delighted, because it proved Marcus was once a child, had once been human. And even if he'd changed from that, there might be a way to change him back.

And horrified, because whatever had broken him was about to happen. Except it already had happened. She was going to see every little detail, and she couldn't change a thing.

Marcus was still looking at the names. "Didn't you hear me? Choose your last name, brat!" A blinding pain erupted in his head, as a fist smashed into the back of his skull. The force of the impact threw him to the floor, causing more pain, more anger.

Ellone knew Marcus was hurt, but she didn't feel the pain herself. She was experiencing his memories, but only seeing and sensing, not actually feeling what he'd felt. There was a distance between them, one she couldn't cross.

But then, there always was…

Marcus didn't cry, his expression didn't change. He just got to his feet, and kept staring at the man who'd hit him.

The man looked little more than a thug, stocky and cruel. Anger and hatred were in his gaze as he towered over Marcus, but there was also a trace of fear, which grew as the boy moved back to the computer without a sound.

_They hate me, and hurt me, but they fear me. They all fear me. Why? I do as they say. I always do. So why?_

Ellone knew why. It was because Marcus was different. They were scared of him, couldn't accept him for what he was, even when they'd made him into what he was in the first place.

Marcus faced the screen again, turning his back on the thug, unafraid. Pain was a constant part of his existence, and had long ago ceased to concern him.

The names all looked the same, all equally meaningless, so he decided to pick one at random. What did it matter?

Then he saw the name **Kensai**, and his thoughts stopped. The word immediately held a certain meaning for him. It was not appealing, as Marcus didn't like it more than any of the others, but he felt a connection of sorts.

He touched the screen, and the name lit up. It would do.

"Kensai?" There was a guttural laugh from behind him. "You got pride, brat."

Marcus saw another man approach, looking at the screen. "Kensai, meaning sword spirit. Interesting…" The man look thoughtful. "Did he know that's what it meant?"

"Don't see how, Commander. Must be coincidence."

"Or fate." The Base Commander looked down at the boy in front of the screen. "Well, Marcus? Did you know? Do you think yourself a sword spirit?"

"No." Said Marcus. "I know only what I am told. You never told me that, so I do not know."

The whack on the side of his head was stronger this time, and sent Marcus flying across the floor.

"You shouldn't keep doing that all the time, Avarus." The Commander's voice didn't criticise.

"Why?" Avarus scowled. "For his protection?"

"No. For yours." The Commander replied. "He won't stay a child long, and he won't forget."

"Pah." Avarus spat on the floor. "He's no threat to me."

"Your funeral." The Commander said. "Teach him well. Everything you know, sword most of all." He smiled, before walking away. "Who are we to challenge the fate of a sword spirit?"

With nothing to do, Marcus looked around in quick glances, marking everyone's position in his head, what they were doing, if they were armed. As he'd been trained.

_He's on the alert_ Ellone thought. _Like a soldier, in enemy territory. He doesn't feel safe. But he's just a child…_

It went against everything Ellone believed. No child should ever feel like that. Children should be loved, kept safe, never forced to grow up too fast.

At the orphanage, she'd been an older sister to the others, helping Matron Edea look after them, even breaking up the fights between Squall and Seifer. She always dreamed of a family of her own one day, but could never decide on what her perfect husband would look like.

Avarus spoke. "You'll learn sword, brat. You're a weakling, but I'll make you a warrior, even if it kills you. But remember" He leaned close to Marcus. "I give the orders. You'll do everything I say, when I say it, without question. You obey me."

Marcus spoke the question before he thought about it. "Why should I?"

The fist flew towards his head, but he blocked it. An ordinary child would have been helpless, but Marcus was far from ordinary, and had never been allowed to be a child. The impact jarred his arm, but he ignored the pain for the insignificant thing it was, and punched Avarus in the stomach with lightning speed.

Avarus fell back a few steps. "Worthless brat! I'll teach you respect!" He roared, and charged.

Marcus blocked the , and dodged fast enough to make the second just a glancing blow. He couldn't block the third hit, or the fourth.

Or the fifth, or the sixth.

Or all the rest.

* * *

A little while later, Marcus crawled through the corridors to his cubicle, the tiny space where he slept. He couldn't walk, could barely stand, and nobody would help him. He was meant to be a warrior, and to depend on others was a weakness he would never be permitted. If he couldn't cope by himself, then he was worthless, and was better off dead.

He dragged himself through the entrance, into the cold, featureless room. A single bed took up half the space, and the other half was empty, with a mirror on one wall. Marcus tried to push himself up on his feet, but his arms were too damaged to cope with his weight, and he collapsed, sobbing.

_He can cry._ Thought Ellone. Despite the horror of the abuse Marcus was suffering, the hope in what she just saw still lifted her heart. _He had emotions once._

Marcus grabbed the edge of his bed and pulled himself upwards, his determination making up for his lack of functioning limbs. Slowly, he stood, looking at himself in the mirror.

Looking back was a child, angry and scowling, and he hated himself for looking that way. Because what he saw wasn't strong enough to have a choice, a life, a future. Too weak to do anything but obey. Too pathetic to be anything but a slave.

"It's not FAIR!" Marcus screamed, the anger too much to control, even for him.

"_Halt._" The AI spoke. "_Emotional outbursts are not permitted, and will be punished._"

"I DON'T CARE!" Marcus wasn't listening, and Ellone didn't blame him. His short life had held nothing but pain, violence and suffering, and everyone had their limits. He was falling apart. "I HATE THEM! I HATE…"

His body shuddered, limbs flailing as he spasmed wildly before crashing to the ground.

_They electrified the floor_ Ellone thought. _A child's room, and they…_

"Emotional outbursts will not be tolerated. Do you understand?"

Marcus clenched his fists. "WHY? Why must I obey? Why do they hurt me? WHY…" The electric shock was longer this time, his heart racing until it felt ready to burst out of his chest.

Marcus forced himself to calm down. He couldn't win this way, but he wouldn't surrender. He had to fight another way.

He couldn't resist what they did to him. He couldn't get away from them. He was too weak. But they were training him to make him strong. He had to be patient. One day, he'd be strong enough. One day, he'd escape.

But how could he endure until then? His anger would betray him. He'd lose control. He needed protection. But what did he have? What could he use?

_I hate them._ His thoughts hissed. _I hate them all._

His hatred swelled up, coating every memory, corrupting every emotion. He drew it around himself, the dark emotion coating him like armour. Hate was stronger than anger, more powerful than fear. It encased him in darkness, and nothing could get through.

He looked at the mirror again, and the face looking back was blank, without expression. His stare was hollow, empty.

Exactly like he was in the present.

_Marcus, I'm sorry._ Ellone thought, as the memory faded away. _This should never have happened. I'm so sorry._

But this was just a memory, and Marcus couldn't hear. But if he had, she knew what he'd say.

_Why are you sorry? You didn't do this…_

* * *

Time passed. Marcus endlessly practiced swordplay and combat, paying in blood for the knowledge Avarus taught him. Then one training session, everything changed.

Two men had suddenly appeared on the viewing platform. One was the Base Commander, which wasn't unusual, but the second was cloaked and hooded, face hidden.

"Kensai's improvement is barely adequate." Said the Commander. "He has far greater potential, but it is being wasted. Why is this?"

"Brat won't listen, Commander." Avarus spat. "He won't learn. He's too lazy, too slow. Won't make the effort. He's not good enough."

"Are those his faults, or yours?" The voice of the hooded man was soft, breezing through the silence.

"His, of course."

"Hardly. He is gifted, and you are too incompetent to handle that. In failing a GEC, you fail the Empire. That carries a price."

"You couldn't do better."

"I could." The man pushed his hood back. "And I will." His face was one of iron will and ruthless ambition, no trace of doubt or hesitation. He could have been handsome, if his features weren't so devoid of warmth. And his eyes… they were featureless pools of darkness, just like Marcus. _Electus_.

"Drachen!" Avarus hissed, hands trembling in fear as he struggled to draw his sword.

"Terrified I'm going to kill you?" Drachen smiled. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about that. I have nothing to gain from killing you myself. Your death must have use, since your life did not." He turned. "Marcus?"

Marcus watched silently. He didn't know who Drachen was, but he knew enough to obey.

"You hate him." Drachen pointed to Avarus.

"Yes." Marcus replied instantly.

"Good." Drachen nodded. "Kill him."

Avarus sneered in disbelief as Marcus dived at him, pummelling tiny fists into his chest with more force than any normal child. Avarus fell back in shock, before he recovered his wits and sent Marcus flying.

Marcus leapt to his feet, and charged. Avarus laughed, reaching for the knife in his belt.

The knife wasn't there. His eyes widened. The scabbard was empty. His fingers grabbed empty air…

And Marcus stabbed him, ripping the knife through his stomach, wrenching the wound open by yanking it free.

Avarus tried to grab another weapon, but his fingers didn't respond. He tried to say something…

And Marcus stabbed him again, tearing flesh and blood from his body. Avarus collapsed as he died, but Marcus didn't care. He brought the knife down again and again, until the corpse was a bloody lump of flesh barely recognisable as human.

"Excellent!" Drachen smiled thinly. "You attacked an experienced, armed, and stronger opponent, and killed without mercy. You show promise."

"He lacks self-control." The commander scowled. "He has no discipline."

"And who did you expect him to learn discipline from? That?" Drachen nodded to the bloody remains. "I will teach him discipline, control, purpose. I will make him one of the greatest warriors the Empire has ever known. With one condition."

"Which is?"

"No training with straight swords. From now on, curved blades only. He is not a lumbering thug, and he will not be trained as one."

"As you choose." The commander nodded. "In matters of the sword, your word is law."

"Yes." Said Drachen. "It is."

* * *

More time passed, memories rushing past Ellone too fast to see clearly. Then a girl was screaming, and real time returned.

She saw Marcus looking at herself, as a little girl. This confused Ellone for a moment, then she remembered Melissa, her great-grandmother. This must be her. But why…

Melissa was screaming in terror, scrambling to run away from Marcus, but she kept falling over. There was no sense in her eyes, only panic and madness.

Ellone couldn't believe it. Marcus was a killer, yes, but abuse had driven him to it. How could he ever hurt Melissa? Had he just lashed out, lost his temper? No, he couldn't have… Could he? Had he been lying to her? Was this why he didn't want her to see his memories?

Marcus was frozen, unsure whether to calm her down by moving closer or by running away. He didn't know what to do. He would fight on her behalf, but fight what?

If Marcus didn't know what happened, it wasn't his fault. Ellone was reassured, more than she thought she would be.

Guards stormed into the room, pinning Marcus down. He didn't resist. Melissa was restrained to stop her hurting herself, and taken to the hospital area, still screaming as they carried her away. The guards began questioning Marcus, and he confessed how he'd forced Melissa to use her powers on him, for her to see his past. And then she'd started screaming at him, terrified of him, and how he couldn't calm her down.

When he'd finished talking, they took him to another room and strapped him down in a chair, the bindings far stronger than needed to hold any normal human being. Two men were facing him, one with knives, the other with drugs and injection devices.

And then, the torture began. Marcus didn't react. He never did.

Of course, he'd been lying. He hated his memories of his tortured existence, and even he wasn't stupid enough to think revealing them to anyone was a good idea. But Melissa had just found out about her new power for 'interrogation', and wanted to know more about him. He'd told her to try it with Ghost, or even Psion, but she said _Ghost would be boring with all that techy stuff and Psion confuses me and I don't like him anyway_ _and…_ and while he was distracted, she used her power anyway.

Then she went into hysterics, and wouldn't stop screaming.

Even when she recovered, Marcus knew it was yet more proof that he couldn't be trusted. That he must never be comfortable around anyone human, never get too close. This would never, must never, happen again.

Ellone didn't feel too proud of herself at that point. One of the few times she'd acted on impulse, and she had to do it at the worst possible time. He was already blaming himself for everything, and she had to break one of the few promises he hadn't broken. _Great._

More memories flashed past. He slept and rested when he had to, but the rest of his time was spent becoming what the Empire wished – a killing machine. He fought with many weapons and trained in the martial arts, but he fought with swords most of all. Right handed, left handed, two handed, both handed, he trained endlessly. No improvement was ever good enough, no level of skill accomplished enough to satisfy his creators, or Drachen.

His academic studies were barely adequate, but he was only taught what a soldier needed, nothing more. Basic maths, to calculate army supplies and logistics. Basic medicine, to heal his wounds enough to kill more of the enemy. He learned slowly, his mind barely sufficient. This led to his codename of Brute. Unthinking. Unfeeling. Unstoppable.

From what he overhead when others talked of him, he was seen as unusual. Apart from Drachen, everyone he met admitted there was something different about him. Not his abilities, although they were extraordinary enough, but his behaviour. He never questioned, never hesitated, never became emotional or showed any reaction of any sort. His instructors stopped telling him to try harder, or put more effort into something. There was no point. Marcus always put everything he had into everything he did, no matter what. Even in adults, such willpower was almost unheard of. In a child, it was unbelievable.

One overhead conversation he particularly remembered.

"_He scares me."_ A female technician. _"He's dangerous. We can't control him."_

"_He's meant to be dangerous."_ A male voice. _"And he does everything we tell him to."_

"_But why? Why does he obey? How can we control him?"_

"_We control him the same as we control everyone else. The carrot and the stick."_

"_But he's not scared of anything! He doesn't want anything! We can't break him or buy him when there's nothing to do it with!"_

"_You're worried over nothing. We can handle him."_

"_I don't think we can. I don't think anyone can. I've seen him train, destroying anything that gets in his way. What if he decides we're in his way?"_

Their voices lowered, and Marcus didn't hear the rest. He remembered the conversation, but didn't understand it. He didn't think he needed to.

Time passed, but there was nothing to record the days, weeks, months, or years. His limbs curved with muscle, his build athletic, his body flexible to a degree most humans would find impossible. He'd been clumsy as a child, so his instructors had beaten it out of him. Now, every movement he made was unnaturally quick and precise, and his every step was lightfooted, with the grace and poise of a dancer.

Any sword he wielded became almost a part of his body, striking with lightning speed, always on target and never less than lethal. Only Drachen or another GEC could possibly hope to defeat him in battle. Nobody else even stood a chance.

He looked at himself in the mirror now and then, but never quite remembered why.

But even though he obeyed orders without question, they still tortured him. It was a test, they said. To see how much he could endure before he broke, and begged them to stop. Every time, he endured more, suffered for longer. They were pleased to see the increasing amount of pain he could take before he broke.

But they didn't see it, and he never broke. He begged them to stop when he'd endured enough to please them, not when he'd endured all he could take. They'd never even come close to breaking him, not once. He was far stronger than they thought.

Trust no one. One of the first things they'd taught him, and he'd learnt it well.

So he trusted them least of all.

* * *

An older Marcus, almost a man, entered the training room, and two other GECs were already there. Carrion and Shard.

Carrion was strong and powerful, but mindless, even compared to Marcus. He was barely controllable, killing for pleasure, addicted to the slaughter and carnage of battle. Shard was intelligent, calculating and devious. She never noticed you unless she decided you were a threat, and she was never happier than when stabbing someone in the back.

He could feel Shard's eyes on him. She was far more dangerous than Carrion, who wouldn't do or think anything unless ordered to kill.

They each had a sword in their hands. Marcus, as always, had the Caedes Firio, or 'Killing Blow', a fine Centran katana his instructor had given him some time ago. The blade appeared delicate, but in reality was anything but, and it suited him well.

"You three are the finest warriors within the GECs." The base commander appeared on a monitor screen. "But only the greatest of all can be the template for the new Centran army. Only the finest gene pattern will be used. Only one of you can be chosen, and you will prove your worth in battle. Victory or death. Begin."

If Marcus had thought about the situation, even for an instant, he would have died. But he had no need to think. He simply acted, already rolling forward as two blades hissed above his head.

Marcus slashed at Carrion's head, who blocked as Shard rushed forward. Both were trying to kill him first. Both knew him to be the greatest danger.

Marcus twisted his body, and Shard's attack cut across his ribs without much damage. As her blade was about to thrust through his heart, he kicked her in the head. Shard fell back, but Carrion rushed in, a flurry of attacks threatening to break through his guard.

Two against one put Marcus at a disadvantage, but Shard and Carrion had been trained to fight alone. They weren't used to fighting together any more than Marcus was.

Marcus circled, forcing them to move after him. Shard had cut him several times, and Carrion had stabbed him once, but they kept getting in each others way. All he needed was the right moment.

Carrion crossed Shard's line of sight.

_Now._ He attacked with everything he had, knocking Carrion back into Shard. As Marcus attacked again, Carrion's blade was already there to block. But Shard, acting instinctively as Carrion fell against her, shoved him back towards Marcus.

Marcus had expected this, his aim instantly corrected. Carrion was surprised, and as he stumbled forward, his guard automatically lowered.

Marcus drove the blade deep into Carrion's lungs, wrenching it free as the GEC collapsed, drowning in his own blood. Shard backed away, hiding her shock. He attacked, Shard meeting him head on. Their blades danced, cut and thrust, parry and block. He thrust at her heart, but she dodged, and would have cut his head open if he hadn't ducked in time, her blade only nicking his scalp.

She fought well, but was a fraction slower than he was. She was thinking too much. That had always been her weakness.

She tried a foot sweep, but he jumped over it and brought his blade down at her head. She blocked.

He moved through a complicated attack pattern, one he knew she'd recognise. Cut from top to bottom left, slash to the right, kick to the torso, thrust at the neck… Shard blocked each one perfectly. The next in the sequence was a deep slash, but instead he made a shallow cut.

Shard blocked, but only connected with the tip of the blade. His sword skimmed over hers, creating an opening. He stabbed, his sword skewering her heart and erupting out of her back, and she was dead before she knew what happened.

"Excellent." The commander entered as Marcus wiped his blade clean. "A flawless victory. Your enhanced genes will be replicated for the new Centran army."

Marcus didn't comment, not seeing the need. He sheathed his blade.

"Did you think you would win?" The commander asked.

"I did not think at all. I act. I kill. I do nothing else." Said Marcus, meaning every word.

And the commander smiled.

* * *

For the first time, Marcus was inside Centra City. He was to meet his assigned mate, as would all the surviving GECs. Their genetic material was a valuable resource, and Centra would use it by mating them with the finest pureblood families to sire many children with their enhanced genes. Melissa was the only exception, as her gene pattern was still experimental, its uses and limits still largely unknown.

Ellone was suddenly struck by how… similar everyone looked. The similar shape to the eyes, the similar curve of the mouth, the similar facial structure. It was like everyone in the city was the cousin of everyone else.

Of course, she'd known the Centrans were so obsessed with never mixing their blood with any other race, so there must have been frequent inbreeding, but she'd never thought they'd gone this far.

Marcus looked at the photo of his mate, but as a soldier evaluating an opponent, not as a man seeing a wife. The narrow eyes and petulant smirk told him of hidden weaknesses, flaws she couldn't admit, even to herself. She was someone he could never respect, or rely on.

But he would marry her in the future, and have children by her. Those were his orders.

He was not to speak of the GECs to anyone, or draw needless attention to himself. His contact lenses made his eyes look brown, and he could never take them out. At all other times, he was to obey his assigned mate.

"You can't marry him just because your dad says so!" A blonde girl was shouting.

"I told you, I don't have a choice!" A dark-haired girl hissed back. She matched the photo. "I have to do what he says, or I'll be a homeless vagrant without a Gil to my name."

"But you don't even know anything about him!"

"Just his name, Cecile. That's all dad told me."

"He'll be some old, disgusting, rich guy won't he?" Cecile sighed. "Em, I'm really sorry. If only you could…"

"Miss Emmeline Valis?" Marcus asked politely.

"What is it n…" Emmeline, the dark haired girl, stopped when she saw him.

"I am Marcus Kensai." He bowed. "I am ready to serve."

Both girls looked shocked, and neither said anything. Marcus didn't know why they kept looking him up and down, so he ignored it. "Is something wrong?"

Cecile whispered something barely audible, that sounded like _lucky_.

Some time later, the only duty he had been assigned was to follow Emmeline around while she shopped, and carry the heavy bags she kept handing to him. He'd been warned that today was supposed to prepare him for the 'difficulties' of 'normal' life, but since he was used to running with far heavier weights until he passed out from exhaustion, he was confused.

Cecile was struggling with a heavy bag. As she set it down, Marcus picked it up, and walked past with a quick stride.

"Hey! You didn't have to…"

Marcus turned. "It was too heavy for you. Why would I not?"

"Well…" She stared at the mountain of bags he was already carrying, and rolled her eyes. "Don't you get tired?"

"No." Marcus kept walking, then noticed Cecile had disappeared. He looked back, to see her staring at him, at around waist level. She saw he'd turned, and tensed, looking nervous.

This was a reaction Marcus knew how to deal with. "You don't need to be scared. I would never attack you, and if anyone else does, I will kill them."

Cecile scowled, huffed, and stomped off. Something had gone wrong, and Marcus wondered what it was.

Ellone would have told him, if she could have. She could also have pointed out that Cecile had been checking out his ass. Not even Squall was this clueless around women…

Then she remembered. Cecile lived in Centra City. Marcus was going to kill her. And over 35 million others, but… Cecile _liked_ him. And somehow, this made it worse.

"Is something wrong?" Marcus asked.

Cecile scowled. "What do you think?"

"I don't."

"What?"

"I don't think. I'm not good at it."

"But…" Cecile was confused. "What are you good at?"

"Battle. Conflict. War. Any weapons, any odds. The best." He would have been boasting, but there was no pride in his voice. No emotion of any kind.

"I don't like violence." Cecile was looking for an argument.

Marcus nodded.

"Well?" Cecile raised her voice. "You enjoy fighting, don't you?"

"No." Marcus had never enjoyed anything.

"But you like violence, right?"

"No." Shard had liked violence. Carrion had loved it. Marcus just did it. "I use violence, that is all. If I have feelings, they are irrelevant."

"IF?"

"Hey!" Emmeline came out of the latest shop, dragging yet more bags. "Where have you been? You're supposed to keep up with me!"

"I am sorry." Marcus picked up her shopping, and rejoined her side.

Some time later, they were in a run-down part of the city. Cecile thought it was dangerous, but Emmeline wanted to go, so they did. Marcus said nothing, ordered not to object to his mate, but he agreed with Cecile, and kept alert. His primary order was to protect his mate, at all costs.

Emmeline was talking about herself again. Her character matched the photo, vain and self-absorbed. Some people would have been annoyed. Almost all would have been disappointed. Marcus was neither. He was never disappointed, because he never expected his future to be any different from his past. Existence was pain. Why would married existence be any different?

"Halfbloods! A gang! They've taken her!" A woman shouted, and Marcus was instantly alert and combat ready.

Halfbloods. Half Centran, and half slave race. Seen as a breed of vermin that should not exist, but they were useful at times, so their existence was tolerated, barely. Many became criminals, and if accused of a crime by a pureblood, any halfblood could be executed without proof or trial.

"Who did they take?" Marcus demanded.

The woman paled, and stepped back. "I don't know her name… It all happened so fast…"

"Where's Cecile?" Emmeline shouted.

Marcus ignored both. "Describe her."

The woman described Cecile, as he knew she would.

"Stay here." Marcus told Emmeline, dropping the shopping bags.

"Wait! I'm calling the police."

"Then tell them to clear away the bodies."

"But…" Emmeline stuttered. "What if they've already killed her?"

Marcus felt a boiling surge of anger sear through him. It was a feeling without any use or purpose, but it was more intense, more real than anything he'd ever known.

"Then all the city will hear them screaming."

He quickly found their trail, and followed. Tracking was a skill he'd been slow to learn, but with every waking moment devoted to training, he'd learned enough.

Rushing through the alleyways, he heard voices ahead. If he surprised them, they might panic, and kill her. He smashed a lump of rubble against a wall, and the voices were silent.

He walked out, in plain sight. There were six halfbloods. Three slouching and playing with knives, trying to look intimidating. _Ignore._ Two were dragging Cecile, who was bound and gagged, over to a wall. _Priority._ Their leader, believing he was in control, was approaching Marcus. _First Strike._

Cecile looked at him, terrified, and Marcus felt his anger surge again.

_I don't like violence._

"Close your eyes, Cecile." He said.

She hesitated, then screwed her eyes shut.

The leader was close now, tensed for combat. Marcus was calm, his body perfectly relaxed. He'd fought so many times, had most bones in his body broken and reset so often that violence was as natural as breathing.

The leader believed he was in control, and opened his mouth to speak.

Marcus punched him in the throat before anyone saw him move, crushing his windpipe.

He could have killed the halfblood instantly in any number of ways, but that would make his enemies angry, not just afraid. Watching their leader die slowly made them distracted and terrified, both far better weapons.

And he was the Brute. Of every weapon of war, he was the master.

Two halfbloods were next to Cecile, the one furthest away about to draw a knife. Marcus jumped, kicking the closer halfblood in the face before pushing away from the wall with his other leg, crashing into the second attacker.

The second halfblood was getting up when Marcus kicked him beneath the chin, causing his teeth to sever his tongue before his jaw shattered like glass. He took the knife, leaving the wielder to drown in his own blood as he slit the others throat. Three were left, all rushing to attack.

The first to reach him made a wild swing, and Marcus ducked easily, ramming his elbow into their ribs. The bone shattered, fragments driven into the halfblood's heart. Marcus shoved the body into the second attacker, then the last halfblood lunged.

The thrust was overextended, so Marcus grabbed him by the wrist and pulled. The halfblood lost his balance, falling headlong. The Centran grabbed the back of his head, and yanked back while placing a boot in the middle of his back. His spine snapped with a wet _crack_.

The final attacker finally disentangled himself from the corpse, and looked frantically left and right, searching for Marcus.

The search ended when Marcus reached out from behind, and broke his neck.

Marcus approached the leader, who was still alive and suffocating, eyes wide with terror.

"Vae Victus." He whispered, watching until his enemy was dead. _Suffering to the conquered._

"You are safe." Marcus said to Cecile, cutting her free. "Open your eyes."

Cecile did, and looked at Marcus, noticing he was the only person there. Then she slapped him in the face.

"Have you any idea how scared I was? Why did I have to close my eyes?"

"You don't like violence."

Cecile looked past Marcus, eyes widening when she saw the bodies. "But… You couldn't know how I feel…Unless…" She looked straight into his eyes. "You feel the same. You hate violence too, don't you?"

"I have to use violence." Said Marcus, cradling her in his arms, so light he was hardly carrying her at all. "My orders…"

"That's not an answer." Cecile scowled. "And I can walk."

Pride. Finally, something he understood. Marcus let her down, and they walked away.

"Haven't you ever thought about what you're doing? And why?"

"I'm not supposed to think. I…" Something smashed into the back of his head. His attention was on Cecile and not on his surroundings, a mistake that was often fatal. He spun round, grabbing his attacker by the neck and lifting them off the floor.

"Emmeline?" Marcus blinked. His assigned wife nodded frantically as she choked, and he let her go.

"What are you doing?" Cecile demanded. "He saved my life, and you hit him?"

"Sorry." Emmeline coughed. "I thought he was one of the halfbloods."

"If I was, you'd be dead." Marcus told her. "Don't fight. You're not good at it."

Emmeline scowled. "So what happened? Where are they?"

"I killed them." He pointed. "Over there."

"Really?" Emmeline dashed off, excited. Marcus was disgusted. He was a killer, carrying out his orders without hesitation or pity, but such acts were necessary. To enjoy such things, to take pleasure in death… And Emmeline had a _life_. She had a _choice_. How could she choose this?

Celine leaned in close. "What's wrong with your eye?"

Marcus blinked. His vision was slightly blurred, but he didn't have a concussion.

"Contacts? Coloured?" Her eyes widened. "You're electus!"

He tore the contact lens from his eye before putting it back in, his blood turning to ice. Nobody could know he was an electus. Nobody. If anyone found out, he was ordered to eliminate.

_No._ "Nobody must know this." He said. "Nobody. You must…"

"Electus!" Cecile wasn't listening. "But you're supposed to be an orphan! Electus kids don't become orphans! Rich families would have fought each other to adopt you if they knew…" Her voice tailed off.

"Nobody knew, did they?" Said Cecile. "But every electus alive is public knowledge. Your parents wouldn't have abandoned you. What happened? What did the Empire do to them?"

"I don't know. I was never told anything about them, and I have no memories."

"You have to find out." Said Cecile. "I can help. We'll start by…"

"You cannot!" Marcus couldn't remember the last time he raised his voice like this, if he ever had. "The Empire will keep it secret, whatever the cost!"

"You mean they'll kill you?"

Marcus thought. "No. My existence is too valuable to them. Yours is not."

"But…" Cecile was scared, but still looking into his eyes, something very few GECs, and only one human, Drachen, had ever done before. "I don't want to ignore it."

"Why?" He asked the question he always asked himself, and was never answered.

"Because it's wrong."

Marcus acted before he could think, as he always did. "Then wait until I'm here. I have to go back, so I can't protect you now, and you can't stop them. I can, and I will."

"Okay." Cecile nodded. "I'll keep quiet. But I won't forget. Someday, we'll find out why you're electus."

"Hey!" Emmeline shouted, rushing up to them. "That was amazing! The way you must have tore them apart… What are you up to?"

"Nothing." Marcus backed away from Cecile, and returned to his duties of watching over Emmeline. But until he left to return to the base, he didn't let Cecile out of his sight.

Ellone knew something bad was going to happen to Cecile. Marcus wouldn't have broken his promise to protect her, which meant he never had the chance.

* * *

A few sleeps later, Marcus was in his dormitory with three other GECs. This was strictly forbidden, enforced by the AI, but GECs had been genetically engineered and trained to be the best in any field, including computer security and hacking.

Melissa was there, optimistic and lighthearted as always. "So what happened? Was she pretty? Did you fall in love?"

A man with light brown hair took off his glasses, and inserted a probe into the thick frames. "She was okay, I guess. Dull, though." He was a computer and information specialist, able to penetrate any digital security system and extract any data, without leaving a trace of his presence. This led to his codename, 'Ghost'. Like all of them, Ghost had perfect eyesight, but the glasses were his own invention, enhancing his vision in low light and allowing him to see heat and other invisible wavelengths, as well the ability to display circuit diagrams, maps and tech schematics on the lenses.

"Hmph!" Melissa turned to the fourth GEC, who Ellone recognised as Psion. "What about you? You always notice everything! She was the daughter of the Emperor!"

"She was reasonably intelligent." Answered the man with long platinum hair. "But hardly enough to interest me, and far too arrogant. She even assumed she was my superior."

Psion was the most advanced GEC, an unmatched genius in every field of knowledge, a master of every mental discipline. He treated the staff of the base as if they were at his disposal, which in a way, they were. He could manipulate anyone, winning every argument or conflict because he already knew every move his opponent would make, and had already planned the perfect way to counter every one of them.

"But was she pretty?"

"She wore makeup." Said Psion. "Apparently she was stupid enough to think her appearance would affect my opinion of her."

Melissa huffed. "Well, Hawk? You've been quiet."

"He's always quiet." Ghost smiled. "Haven't you noticed?"

"What?" Said Marcus, who'd been thinking of Cecile.

"Your future wife?" Said Melissa. "What did you think of her?"

"Petty. Vain. Ignorant." Marcus thought. "Worthless."

"But you were thinking of someone just then, weren't you? That's why you weren't paying attention!"

"Yes." Marcus never lied. He'd never seen the point.

Melissa drew closer, eager for gossip, what little there was within the base. "So who is she?"

"Her name was Cecile, a friend of my assigned mate, Emmeline. She was… different. Interesting."

"A secret romance!" Melissa was overjoyed. "That could lead to anything!"

"Actually, it won't." Said Psion. "Because she's dead."

"What?" The words jolted Marcus. Psion's face showed no sympathy, but he never showed any emotion. And he never joked. "How?"

"I saw a newsfeed." Psion explained, his voice perfectly calm. "It said that she had been out with Emmeline and an unidentified man when a group of halfblood thugs attacked her earlier, and some of them survived. They broke into her house that night, got past the security systems, and murdered her entire family."

"You let some halfbloods get away, Marcus?" Ghost was surprised.

"How could you?" Melissa looked about to cry. "Why didn't you help her? You could have…"

"Remarkable." Said Psion. "Both of you are even more stupid than I thought. We all know Marcus never leaves survivors. Correct?"

"Yes." Marcus answered. "I killed all the halfbloods. Every one."

"And even if he had" Psion continued. "Anyone associated with a future wife of a GEC must be a wealthy member of the Centran nobility. Do you really think a few street scum could hack into the security system of the house of a noble, and kill all their highly trained guards?"

"So…" Melissa began. "What does that mean?"

"It means Cecile knew something the Empire didn't want anyone to know. What was it, Marcus?"

"She knew I was electus." Marcus clenched his fists. "Emmeline thought I was a halfblood, and hit me in the head. My contact lens slipped. Cecile saw, but… she promised not to tell anyone. She wouldn't have!"

"Then someone else did." Said Psion. "Who?"

"Nobody was there." Marcus insisted. "Just me, and Cecile…" He stopped, remembering Emmeline rushing up to them just as Cecile said _we'll find out why you're electus_. "Emmeline. She must have overheard."

"And turned informer." Psion concluded. "The Empire sends a killsquad to Cecile's house, kills everyone, then finds a few halfbloods and kills them too, leaving their corpses as evidence. No witnesses, so no questions asked."

"Why?" Said Marcus. "Emmeline was her friend."

"Not that good a friend, obviously."

"She had no right." One of the few emotions Marcus could still feel was boiling within him. "But I have my orders. I must marry her. My offspring must be hers."

"Technically, you only need one offspring." Psion mused. "For instance, if she died just after giving birth, your orders wouldn't be a problem, would they?"

"If Marcus killed his wife, he'd be executed." Said Ghost.

"Kill her?" Psion raised an eyebrow. "Ridiculous. He'd simply make sure she had a fatal accident."

"How?" Asked Marcus.

"Leave that to me." Said Psion. "After a year with my brainless bitch of a fiancé, I'm sure I'll be only too eager for any diversion, even one as petty as this."

"You can't do that!" Melissa shrieked. "I can't believe you're considering…"

"Not considering." Marcus cut her off. "Doing. One offspring with my taint is enough. Once it leaves her body, she will die."

"You can't! That's murder, Hawk!"

"Her murder is justified. Cecile's was not."

Ellone felt the darkness gathering around her. Marcus had already killed many times before, but never like this. Never by choice. Kill or be killed was one thing, but this was cold-blooded murder. His first.

But not his last. Things were going to get much, much worse.

Thirty seven million times over.

* * *

"Private Rourke, you have failed the Empire." As Lieutenant Grenn spoke, the rest of the squad backed away even further from Rourke. In the Centran Empire, failure was often contagious.

Marcus, standing close to Grenn, didn't move, and didn't care. He'd been assigned to Grenn to gain military experience, becoming part of an elite Terminator squad as Private Kensai.

Marcus was given no special privileges, nor did he expect any. The others respected him after they saw him fight, but they still didn't like him, just as Marcus didn't like them. He didn't even know what liking was. There were people he accepted, people he tolerated, and people he killed. No others.

Except for Cecile. She had been different, but he still didn't know why.

Rourke reminded Marcus of Carrion, only worse. Rourke not only lusted after battle, but other things as well. He fought well, and feared nothing, but thought of little besides indulging his insatiable appetites.

This time, Rourke had been guarding their exit route while the other Terminators had hunted and killed a group of bioweapon smugglers. Rourke had abandoned his post to rape a young woman from a slave settlement in the area.

It had happened before, but there had been no pureblood witnesses then, and Imperial law meant that no slave could ever accuse a pureblood of any crime. But this time, Marcus had completed their mission ahead of schedule, and the squad returned to find Rourke still in the act.

The woman sobbed as she cowered in the dirt, clutching the remains of her torn and bloodied clothing around her. She hadn't been questioned, not that anything about her would be relevant to the crime. Rourke was guilty of the dereliction of his duty, a treasonous offence that carried only one punishment.

"Come on, Grenn. You were having all the fun, I needed something! And the little bitch was begging for it! Look at her!"

Grenn didn't look. "She doesn't matter! Nothing matters but your duty to the Empire! You abandoned your post! You betrayed the Emperor!"

Rourke's grin slipped. "Cut me some slack, Lieutenant. You know me, I've fought with you for years. Don't I deserve something for that?"

"Deserve?" Grenn sneered. "It was your privilege to be allowed to serve the Empire. But yes, you deserve something for your service."

Rourke looked relieved, proving he was an idiot.

"Marcus, make it quick."

Rourke reached for his sword, but before his hand cleared half the distance, a blade thrust into his heart and exploded out of his back.

Marcus withdrew his blade as the body slumped, then wiped the blade on the uniform.

"Good." Grenn nodded, the closest to approval he ever got. Then he looked at the woman. "Don't bother telling us what happened. We know enough to know the guilty."

"Th… Th… Thank you." The woman stuttered, her eyes reflecting a world gone mad. "You're not like I thought you'd be. You did the right thing…" Panic swept over her bloodstained face, knowing she'd said too much.

"We do right by the Empire, as is our duty." Grenn didn't seem to care. "But think what you like. It hardly matters now."

Marcus didn't understand. He'd seen Grenn almost beat soldiers to death for doubting the Empire. Forgiving a slave didn't make sense.

"Sergeant Caligus, do your duty." Said Grenn, and turned to the woman. "Can't have you tempting other purebloods, can we?"

"But I didn't…" There was a gunshot as a bullet hit her between the eyes, ending her plea forever.

"Idiot!" Grenn, punched Caligus in the face, sending him sprawling. "Wasting a bullet on a slave? They consume enough resources already! Always use your sword!"

"Why?" Asked Marcus, finally giving voice to his question. The soldiers froze, not believing that anyone would dare to question an order.

"What?" Grenn snarled.

"Why kill her?" Said Marcus. "Her death serves no purpose."

"Her crime demanded punishment."

"The crime was Rourke's. Not hers."

"She was involved."

"You are wrong." The soldiers looked worried. Questioning was bad enough, but arguing was unthinkable. But everyone knew that even among the elite Terminators, Marcus was a better fighter than any of them, maybe even better than Grenn. Grenn held military authority, but that wouldn't protect him from a sword. "She could not stop Rourke. She could do nothing. This was no crime of hers."

"There is no greater crime than treason to the Empire! She would have rebelled against Imperial authority! She had to die!"

"She was not our enemy. Is the Empire so weak, that it considers her a threat?" Marcus was on dangerous ground, but he was dragging Grenn along with him. The wrong reply could have been treason.

"Our orders required her death." Grenn's hand moved closer to his gun. "Do you question our orders?"

Marcus fought the urge to cut Grenn in half, and finally won. "No." He said, sheathing his sword.

Grenn turned away and led his men back to Centra City, apparently satisfied than Marcus had backed down, accepting his orders. But he was wrong.

Marcus had backed down because there was no reason to fight. The woman was already dead, so nothing could be done. Marcus was always practical in everything he did, and never fought without a reason. He had killed many men and women, but they were always enemies, and usually trying to kill him. This was killing without reason.

This should not happen.

* * *

"You have your orders!" Grenn commanded. "You will obey!"

"I will not." Marcus drew his sword. "You will stand down."

"We have our orders! We are to kill them! You will follow orders!"

"The orders serve no purpose." Marcus remained calm. "They have no meaning, no purpose. I reject them."

"I am your commanding officer! You have your orders! The orders of the Empire! YOU WILL OBEY!"

Everything Marcus knew was pushing him to obey his orders. All his training, all the teaching and conditioning of his entire existence, forcing him to do as the Empire commanded him. But there was something else inside of him, pushing back, growing stronger all the time. Inside his mind, a battle raged.

Ellone knew what she was seeing. The Centran Rebellion was about to start, right here. Nobody had ever understood how anyone could have thought they stood a chance of beating the Empire, that ultimate military power that had stretched across the world, unbeaten for centuries and growing more powerful and unstoppable with every year that passed. To resist was futile, so to start a war was truly unthinkable.

But that, Ellone realised, had been the Empire's biggest mistake. They'd made Marcus into someone who wasn't supposed to think, who never considered his actions. Going against the Empire was suicide, but they'd created someone who didn't value his own life, who didn't care about danger, or risk, or consequences. He reacted instinctively.

But the Empire hadn't brainwashed him completely. There was still a part of him that could feel compassion, that questioned his orders. And that part of him was finally waking up, and making Marcus question.

And because of that, Grenn was pushing Marcus, trying to force him to obey, going on the offensive. And picking a fight was the most stupid thing Grenn could have done.

Because when Marcus was attacked, there was only one way he could react. Only one thing he knew how to do.

"You will obey me!" Grenn repeated.

"The weak obey the strong." Marcus quoted the Centran creed. "You are not the strongest. You obey me!"

"You defy me? You defy the Empire?" Grenn stared in disbelief. "For them? Why?"

"Why is irrelevant."

"They're worthless! You know that!"

"Then why fight?" The Terminators had spread out, surrounding Marcus on all sides. They would attack with swords, not guns.

"You have a point." Grenn nodded. "Their lives aren't worth losing a soldier over." His voice sounded convincing, but Marcus never judged by words alone. Grenn's stance, the tension in his muscles, his movements and body language all screamed at Marcus that the Lieutenant was about to attack.

So when the first sword came at him without warning, he was ready. Marcus leant away, and the blade thrust through empty air, already coming back into a guard as Marcus prepared to strike.

Then Marcus grabbed the blade before its owner could block.

The edge cut deep into his fingers as it slid through his grip, but it slowed the blade enough, and the block was delayed. Marcus saw the panic and desperation in his eyes, before he cleaved the Terminator's head from his shoulders.

The others attacked, coming at him from all sides. Terminators were the elite killers in the Centran Empire, the best of the best. Marcus was outnumbered, surrounded, and nobody thought he stood a chance.

And Marcus danced.

A blade hissed towards him, and he twisted just enough for it to touch his hair but not his head. He sliced open his attackers face, then whirled to his right to avoid a sword while blocking a second attack, kicking at a third and breaking their kneecap.

Marcus was surrounded by death, but he was the calm at the centre of the hurricane. A stab that should have impaled his heart only scored across his ribs as he sidestepped. A slash to the face would have taken an eye, but only cut his face when he jerked his head at the last instant. They'd seen Marcus fight, thought that even if he was better than any of them, he wasn't good enough to beat them all.

But just like when he was tortured, Marcus had been holding back.

The Terminators almost got him, almost killing him so many times, but it was never quite enough. They drew blood many times, but they couldn't disable him, or kill him. They kept fighting him with everything they had, but now they were thinking about how he wasn't dying, feeling uncertain. And that slowed them down.

But Marcus didn't think, or feel, and he never slowed down. And he didn't fight his enemies. He just killed them.

More attacks, more blades, more blood, more death. Marcus lodged a knife into the ribs of a man on his left, while cutting off a hand holding a gun on his right before it could fire, and then he…

And then he did nothing, because there was nobody left. Grenn had been holding the gun, and everyone else was dead.

Marcus picked up the gun. It was an automatic, with a full magazine.

Grenn reached for a sword, but Marcus stamped his remaining hand, crushing the bones beneath his boot. Grenn screamed in pain, not bothering to stem the blood gushing from his stump of an arm. He was all but dead, and he knew it.

"WHY?" Grenn hissed. "You would have risen to the right hand of the Emperor! You had everything! The Empire's favour, glory and fortune, everything!"

"Everything I never wanted."

"They'll hunt you down for this. Every Terminator, every soldier, every weapon of the Empire! They'll kill you!"

"The Empire killed me before I was born. Existence is pain. I welcome oblivion."

"But why?" Grenn was turning pale from blood loss. "After everything given you, why turn on the Empire? Because of slaves?"

"No. Not for them." Marcus pointed the gun at Grenn's head.

"Then WHY?" Grenn screamed at him.

He had often asked himself that question, and never found an answer. But now, he did.

"Because I hate you." Marcus pulled the trigger, and watched without blinking as he emptied the entire magazine into Grenn's face.

* * *

Marcus was running through the base. After the satisfaction of vengeance had left him, he'd realised what the Empire would do when they found out the truth. Killing him would be a waste of genetic material and training, so they wouldn't do that. He was too valuable to dispose of, but too strong to control.

Which meant they'd cut out part of his brain. Obedience by lobotomy.

And it had all been for nothing. Killing just one Terminator squad wouldn't damage the Empire. And what he'd stopped them doing had happened anyway, after…

_No! Don't think about that!_ As he'd been trained, he focused on one purpose, ignoring all else. There was only one person who could help him, if he could get to him in time.

Marcus burst through the doors. Psion was working on two computer terminals, each hand tapping at a separate keyboard as his head darted back and forth between the two screens. Both of the problems he was working on would have been considered unsolvable by the finest minds in the Centran Empire, but answering them both, simultaneously, was the only way to keep Psion occupied. Anything else would have been too easy, too boring to hold his interest.

"Marcus." Psion didn't look up, or interrupt his work. "I take it you want my help."

"Yes. I killed…"

"Lieutenant Grenn, I know. But you're too late. He sent a communication some time ago that you were a traitor to the Empire. While you were fighting, I expect. You always were careless."

"What?" Marcus could feel the knives carving into his brain. "You knew?"

"I know everything that happens, Marcus. Despite your lack of intellect, you should have realised that by now."

"Why didn't you stop it?"

"I did stop it." Psion sighed. "Did you really think I'd wait for you to get here?"

"You knew this would happen?"

"Of course. We're not as different as you think. True, our gifts are in entirely different areas, but we are both enhanced far beyond what any human could ever understand. You are the only individual I can relate to, even slightly."

Marcus allowed himself to relax. "Then I will not be lobotomised."

"Not yet. But next time? What happens then?

"Next time?"

"They gave you an order you couldn't obey, so you killed them, correct?" Psion didn't wait for Marcus to nod. "So what will you do when they give that order again?"

"I don't know." Only in battle could Marcus plan ahead. Other situations were too unfamiliar for him, too difficult to predict.

"You've taken the law into your own hands, so you only have two options. One is that you let go, and don't do it again."

Marcus didn't need to think of the order he'd refused to know that wasn't an option. "And the second?"

"You squeeze."

"Attack the Empire?"

"Exactly." Psion stopped tapping at the keyboards. "Well?"

Marcus was trained to obey the Empire, but his purpose was more important than his training. And his purpose was to attack the enemy.

But who was the enemy? For the first time, he wasn't sure. The slave races were too helpless to be enemies. The halfbloods who tried to kill Cecile had been his enemies, but they were dead, and would have only killed Cecile. The Empire had killed her family as well.

He hated them for that.

Hate. That was his answer. Your enemy is what you hate, and the greatest enemy is what you hate the most.

The Empire.

"First the base." Said Marcus. "You have a plan?"

And as always, Psion did.

* * *

"We have control of the security systems and disciplinary mechanisms." Psion explained to the remaining GECs. "The guards will be caught by surprise, and easily disposed of. With one exception."

"Drachen, right?" Ghost spoke up.

"Correct. He has never trusted the base security, and never lowers his guard, so he cannot be ambushed. We have to kill him first."

"I'll do it." Said Marcus.

"Who's going with you?" Ghost asked.

"Nobody." Some of the GECs were trained in various battle disciplines, but none came anywhere near Marcus in close combat skills, and none would last more than a few seconds against Drachen. "I must kill him. No other can."

"True." Psion nodded. "Once Drachen is dead, we will attack. Be ready, all of you. Hesitation is death."

Psion stopped Marcus as he was about to leave, and gave him a short list of GEC names.

* * *

Marcus silently approached the three last GEC's on Psion's list, and watched them as they tried to contact the Empire, to tell them about the planned uprising

"The signal's blocked." One of them said. "It won't send!"

"No." Marcus stabbed him through the spinal cord. "It won't."

The other two turned to run. One made two steps, the other seven.

* * *

Marcus entered the training hall, deserted except for his instructor.

"You're early for training." Drachen commented

"Not training." Marcus stated. "I am here to kill you. Defend yourself."

"Really?" Drachen didn't seem troubled, but then, he never did. He'd always taught that controlling battle was impossible without controlling yourself. "I didn't expect that base commander to turn on me yet. What did they offer you?"

"They didn't. I'm killing them too."

"Interesting." Drachen drew the Blade of the Betrayer. "The Empire will kill you for that."

"Not if I kill them first." Marcus drew the Caedes Firio.

"The entire Empire?" Now Drachen was surprised. "I didn't think you were that ambitious."

"Not ambition. Revenge."

"Ah. For ruining your life, I suppose. But do you really think you'll live to get it?"

"I'm not living now."

"That's a matter of opinion. Life is relative." Drachen advanced slowly, not at all hurried. "But death is absolute, as you're about to find out."

"Maybe." Said Marcus, ready to attack. He wanted revenge against all those who'd hurt him, and Drachen had definitely hurt him, broken his body over and over, but…Drachen had done it to train him, make him a warrior. Never without a reason. Marcus hated every Centran who'd made him what he was, but his hatred of Drachen was different. It was a hatred he could tolerate, one he didn't need to act on.

But he had to kill Drachen, hate or not. Drachen was in his way. Killing was necessary.

It always was.

They dived at each other, blades thirsting for blood. No quarter, no mercy asked or given. Both professional killers, neither stopping until death.

They crossed blades, and Drachen looped his sword, forcing Marcus to follow, blades circling before Drachen lashing out at his face. Marcus leant back, letting the blade whistle past before lunging and stabbing.

Marcus pressed his attack, cutting and slashing from all sides, never letting up. Of them both, the GEC was faster, stronger, better. And slowly, he pushed Drachen back.

"Very good." Drachen admitted, as Marcus drew closer to stabbing him through the heart. "You're better than I am. But there's something you don't know."

"Which is?"

Drachen smiled. "I'm holding back." And the Blade of the Betrayer came at Marcus almost faster than he could see, burning a line across his throat that would have taken his head if he'd been a fraction of an instant slower.

He fell back, and Drachen kicked him in the ribs. Marcus collapsed, and just scrambled to his feet before Drachen was on him, attacking from all directions, pushing him back, and all the GEC could do was defend, and retreat.

"Your last lesson." Drachen advanced steadily. "Always hold something back."

"I know." Marcus breathed, as their swords clashed together. "And I was." He knocked Drachen's blade aside, punching his instructor in the face before whipping his blade round to cut a shallow gash into Drachen's shoulder.

They both attacked head on, moving impossibly fast. Centran swordplay was based around two core tenets, solid truths around which every aspect of the whole fighting style was based.

The first: Never stop moving. While in motion, you force your opponent to react to you. If you stand still, you are forced to react to them. To stop moving is to die.

The second: Always attack. Defend only in the process of attacking. Attack instinctively, without hesitation, without thought. Attack whoever or whatever your opponent. Attack always, and only, to kill.

Marcus and Drachen were both masters of the sword, and more evenly matched than either of them thought. Drachen was smarter and more experienced, and when his students had attacked him before, he'd killed them easily. But Marcus was stronger and faster, a GEC designed to be better in a fight than any human, even a legend like Drachen.

Marcus was still bleeding from his throat, fresh wounds on his arms and legs. Drachen had wounds on his shoulder and upper body, with a gash across the face that nearly took an eye. Their swords blurred, the air ringing with the clash of Centran steel.

Drachen came in close, over crossed blades, and headbutted him. Marcus staggered back, slipped on spilt blood and fell. Drachen stabbed down to finish him, but Marcus twisted his body as he shoved his arms against the floor, kicking both feet into Drachen's ribs and knocking him back. Marcus backflipped, coming to his feet as Drachen rushed in, and then it was all blades and blood once more.

Then it happened. Perhaps an instant's hesitation, maybe just a fraction of a second too slow in blocking, but enough to change everything. Drachen's blade swept past under the GEC's guard, cutting deep into hand, body and leg, Marcus dropping as his leg gave way before his ex-instructor kicked him in the head. Marcus skidded backwards as his sword flew out of his hands, too far away to get to before Drachen killed him.

"Well fought, Kensai." Said Drachen, as he advanced unhurriedly. "You were my finest student. It's a shame…" His voice stopped, and put a hand to his chest, where the fountain of blood was spilling out.

"Yes." Said Marcus, painfully getting to his feet as Drachen fell to his knees. "It is."

"You've…" Drachen's breath came in sudden gasps. "Killed me…"

"I had to." Marcus didn't feel triumphant. He didn't feel anything. "You stood with the Empire."

"And now you fight the Empire." Drachen struggled to stay upright. "Do you expect to win?"

"I expect nothing. I will kill them, until they kill me. That is all."

"Excellent… as always, student." Drachen gasped. "And Typhon?"

Typhon had been the name of the first Emperor of Centra, and the title given to the greatest weaponmaster in the Empire. Even Marcus had heard that Drachen and the current Typhon had always been bitter rivals for the position.

"I'll kill him." Said Marcus. It was the truth, and Drachen had never lied to him.

Drachen smiled. "Good." He said, and died.

Marcus didn't take Drachen's sword, the Blade of the Betrayer. Cursed or not, it was the better weapon, but everyone knew the blade never left Drachen's side. For now, Marcus needed surprise.

"The weapon has broken." Marcus spoke into the comm port in the wall, the codewords chosen by Psion, who said that anyone could be listening. "Replace it now."

Marcus sheathed his sword and left the training hall, heading for the command centre.

"Brute! Stop!" The haughty voice belonged to Ellis Imago, the Head of Security. Ellis believed himself to be a fighting man, but Marcus had always dismissed him as an irrelevance. "Why are you wounded? What's going on?"

"I have been training."

"When was this arranged? Why wasn't I informed?"

"How would I know?"

Ellis leaned in close, acting tough. "You might think you're a hotshot, Brute, but you're just another freak to me." The effort was wasted on Marcus. If Ellis was about to detonate an atomic bomb, the GEC still wouldn't have found him intimidating. "I'm your superior! Remember that! Anything that goes on, you tell me! Anything that happens, you tell me! From now on, I'm first!"

"Yes." Marcus nodded, coming to a decision. "You will be first."

Ellis still had a smug grin on his face when Marcus cut through most of his torso, the sword lodging in the Head of Security's spine. Marcus wrenched it free, not bothering to pay attention as Ellis fell, his insides spilling out over the floor. He was dead, or as good as, so no longer relevant.

Marcus kept walking to the command centre. Someone starting screaming on his right, and he swung his blade at head height in their direction. The screaming stopped.

Other screams were heard, all over the base. The GECs were taking over, so everyone else had to die. It was necessary.

He heard another scream, but this voice in a voice he faintly remembered. It was a woman trying to escape through a door that had suddenly locked, courtesy of Psion and Ghost controlling the security programming. She turned to face him.

"You!" Her eyes wide with panic. "Please don't! It wasn't me! I didn't mean to…"

"I remember you." Said Marcus, perfectly calm. "You warned them they couldn't handle me. You thought I couldn't be controlled. You knew I was dangerous."

The woman nodded, still scared but starting to hope…

"You were right." Marcus nodded. "Well done."

Then he slit her throat, and carried on.

He supposed it was murder, but he didn't care. It was necessary.

More killing, more death, and he was at the door to the command centre. The body was dying, so all that remained was to cut off the head.

He could hear shouting for the door to open, but it remained shut. Psion controlled the doors, like he did everything else in the base.

"Open." Said Marcus. The Commander staggered back in shock as the door slid back, just before Marcus punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor. He waited for him to almost struggle to his feet, then kicked the Commander in the face.

It wasn't much of a fight. The Base Commander had never been seriously challenged or opposed for far too long, but Marcus had fought for every day of his existence, every aspect honed to a razor's edge.

_No contest._

The Commander drew a knife, then a gun, but Marcus disarmed him easily. The GEC hadn't drawn a weapon, not yet. He didn't want it to be that quick. He could remember countless insults and humiliations, torture and suffering. He wanted blood to spray and bone to crack, all beneath his fists.

Marcus shoved, breaking a computer with the Commander's limp body.

The Commander spat blood. "I won't beg."

"Then don't." Marcus swept a large table clear of rubble. "I'm only here to kill you. Do whatever else you like."

"You think you can hide from the Empire? They'll hunt you down, break you, force you to watch as everyone you care screaming in agony…"

"But I don't care about anyone. I am already broken, and I will not hide from the Empire. I will attack." Marcus slammed the commander onto the table, and started restraining him so he couldn't move.

This kill had to be different. Had to mean something. And maybe, just maybe, it would fill something of the emptiness within him.

"Tell me." Marcus drew his sword. "Are you happy now?"

"Wha…" The commander's voice cut off, as a fist drove into his gut with inhuman strength.

"I don't know what happy is, or what it feels like." Marcus spoke over the choking of his enemy. "You made sure of that. But I'm told you feel happy when you get what you want. And you wanted me to be a killer. Ruthless, relentless, emotionless. And I will never be anything other than what you wanted."

"So tell me." He reversed his sword, blade downwards and the point touching the skin over the commander's heart. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

Marcus pushed the sword downward, but hardly any distance at all. Then a tiny fraction more, but very, very slowly.

The Commander didn't scream, not at first. He shouted threats, describing in detail every torture and agony the Empire would inflict, how every scrap of flesh would be sliced from his bones one cell at a time.

But Drachen had taught Marcus that words were not weapons. Threats and insults could never harm you, and only a fool would react to something so powerless, so a true warrior defends only against steel. So Marcus pushed his sword further, seeking the heart.

The Commander was gasping now, almost shrieking as his chest streamed with blood. He screamed at Marcus of the power and glory the GEC was giving up, that he would have been given the honour of the name of Typhon, the greatest warrior of the Imperial world and leader of all the armies of the Emperor. The Commander ranted that the slave vermin he would live among would hate him, take every delight in watching him suffer when they betrayed him.

But Marcus had always been alone, and knew he always would be. Psion had told him that a leader was only the slave of his followers. He had seen through the lies that were friendship and trust, looked past the false hopes of peace and contentment. He knew what lay underneath, he knew his fate. So Marcus kept pushing.

And finally, the Commander broke his word, and begged. Pleaded for his life.

But Marcus had learned from the Empire that to show mercy is to be a traitor to the cause you fight for, and all who beg for mercy are not worthy to receive it. He stabbed a little further, and twisted the blade.

And the Commander died.

And Marcus felt nothing. No relief, no satisfaction. This was the most important kill, the one he wanted most, but it changed nothing. Nothing ever would. All he could do was keep killing Centrans, until they killed him.

_So be it._

'**Be careful what you wish for', as the saying goes – and the Centrans just weren't careful enough. The GECs may have the base, but the Centrans still have the Empire, and Project Ouroboros is almost ready for launch. Hang on for the next chapter, when war will erupt across the world, slaves and GECs will fight soldiers and war machines, Marcus and Typhon will go head to head, the fates of Rebels and Imperials alike will come to rest upon a single battle, and the destiny of the world will be decided by the devasting power of the ****BloodRage****…**

23


	14. Bloodrage

_**At last, Chapter 14 is here! (Biggest Chapter yet, by the way.) Before we start, a word on Limit Breaks – for the story I wanted to write, fantasy-type fighting moves just wouldn't work. In this story, Limit Breaks are the result by intense mental focus and years of training to boost speed, power and magic abilities for a short time, similar to the 'spirit yell' in martial arts, but more powerful. Rinoa doesn't have the training for a Limit Break, technically, but she can overdrive her Sorceress powers to produce a similar effect. Since they're a recent development, Marcus doesn't have a Limit Break either, but he does have something else – and if you thought he was dangerous before, you haven't seen anything yet.**_

_**As for music to this chapter, I decided to go with what I've decided is Marcus's signature tune; Me Against the World by Simple Plan. The lyrics fit him almost perfectly, especially tearing apart our dreams to make everyone the same – as in Project Ouroborous.**_

**Juniperbreezie** – No, Marcus doesn't have any children. If he had, they'd be like him, and any GEC supersoldiers in the world would have been spotted pretty quickly. Emmeline makes a (very) brief appearance in this chapter, though.

"_I have no words. My voice is in my sword."_ – **Macbeth, by William Shakespeare.**

Chapter 14: BloodRage

The GECs had assembled for the last time, all ready to leave and never come back. The base had been rigged with explosives, to fake an accident that destroyed the base and killed everyone inside. Psion had arranged for all the evidence to blame the base commander, and nobody in the Empire would be smart enough to suspect otherwise.

Many GECs were leaving in groups, thinking it safer to hide from the Empire together. Each group kept where they were going a secret from everyone else. It was safer that way.

Melissa and Ghost were leaving together, likely for somewhere far away. Marcus would head for Centra City, to begin killing the Empire, one Centran at a time. He had the names of Grenn's immediate superiors – a good place to start.

Psion was also leaving alone, but nobody had any idea where he was going, or what he was planning to do. Knowing Psion, nobody ever would.

But Psion was late, which Marcus couldn't understand. Psion was never late, never lost track of time. The idea was absurd. Which meant he must have found something more important. And Marcus could only think of one thing more important than their escape.

_Has the Empire discovered us?_

Then Psion walked in the room. "If any of you are hoping to live among the slave races, or associate with them in any way, you had best change your plans. The slaves will soon cease to exist in any significant way."

The GECs started shouting questions, and Psion held up a hand for silence. "I found a secure transmission saved within the data archives. The security was at the highest level possible, a type of data encryption only used when the Emperor personally wishes the security to be unbreakable."

"So you couldn't decode it?" Melissa blurted out.

Everything went silent. Psion just looked at her in disbelief, as did all the GECs who knew anything about what Psion was capable of.

"Sorry." Said Melissa.

"The transmission had a higher security level than anything else in the base. The contents had to be important. More important than us. AI, display the Project Ouroborous file to all individuals present."

Hologram displays burst into life all around the hall. Marcus watched the closest.

"Lord Emperor! At long last, we are successful!" The man was spindly, but carried himself with pride. "Your exalted dream of Ouroborous is now reality!" He turned round, looking at something beyond the range of the hologram. "Come here."

A boy shuffled into view, standing beside the scientist. The child looked straight ahead, no interest or expression, just waiting for orders. The boy would have reminded Marcus of himself, except the stare was empty. No mind, no thought, no awareness. Nothing at all.

The boy wasn't a warrior, Marcus knew. The child was useless in battle. So what was Ouroborous? What made it so important? What would the Empire use the boy for?

"As you can see, he is a true slave." The scientist continued. "No more questions, no more doubt, no more objecting to the wishes of his betters. He will always be a slave that truly knows his place – to serve the Empire. The need to obey is the only reason for his existence, as it should be."

"And as a further demonstration…" The scientist picked up a metal key, and threw it into a burning fireplace. "A minute for it to heat up." He waited, then turned to the boy. "Slave, get the key from the fireplace, and bring it to the table. Hold it tight, and walk slowly."

The boy shuffled off, kneeling by the flames and reaching into them. He screamed in pain, and pulled back.

The scientist put a lump of ice on the table, but gave no further orders.

And then the boy reached into the fire again. He screamed in pain for the second time as he grabbed the key, which was beginning to glow red-hot. Obeying his orders, he walked to the table slowly, a faint hiss as his hand tightened around the key. He was whimpering, tears streaming down his face, but he didn't rush. Didn't even try.

Finally, the boy dropped the key down on the table, screaming as he did so. His hand burning, he started to reach for the ice.

"Stop. Don't touch that." The scientist commanded.

And the boy obeyed. Never questioned. Just watched the ice, and cried.

"Perfect obedience." The scientist smiled. "From a perfect slave. No need for conditioning, threats, or torture. Retarded intelligence and negligible willpower, all from genetic manipulation. And all slaves born of him will be the same." His eyes gleamed in delight. "Finally, every slave, everywhere in the world, will finally abandon such outdated concepts as liberty and freedom, forget their selfish desires of independence. They will be yours, body and soul, forever!"

Before Marcus realised his hand was moving, the Blade of the Betrayer was passing through the hologram of the scientist before slicing through the hologram emitter, the table, and deep into the floor.

As the image disappeared in a shower of sparks, everyone close was backing away from him, even more than usual. Other GECs usually wanted as little to do with Marcus as possible. Marcus understood, of course. He wanted the same from them.

_Forever… _Every slave, every non-Centran, every non-pureblood, would be exactly like that boy. Millions upon millions, with only one purpose for their existence, without life. Without anything but the need to serve. The boy was like him.

No, worse than him, which should have been impossible. To create Marcus, they'd taken life, emotions, feelings and everything else that would have made him human.

But they'd left strength. They'd left purpose. He could fight back. He still had the power to resist.

But the boy hadn't. And from the look on his face, he'd never even know it.

_No._

Psion switched off the hologram, leaving the GECs to stare in horror at the projectors.

"This must be stopped." In the silence, everyone heard Marcus speak, and felt the rage that carried it.

"Difficult." Psion was perfectly calm, as always. "Everything has been tested. According to the data, the geneticists responsible for Ouroborous will launch in two months, if not sooner."

"Kill the geneticists." Said Marcus.

"That won't work. Other scientists will be found, more than enough. This project is judged more important than any other. The Emperor will do anything to launch Ouroborous."

"Then kill the Emperor."

Sharp intakes of breath, all across the room. Shock and horror on everyone's face, Melissa most of all.

"Quite a challenge." Psion nodded thoughtfully. "But regrettably, an impossible one. The Imperial Palace in Centra City is surrounded by a ring of steel, and guarded with every security the technology of the Empire can produce. To even stand a chance of getting to the Emperor, we would need an army."

"We are GEC. They are human." Said Marcus. "We have strength they do not."

"And they have numbers we do not." Psion pointed out. "Without an army to match theirs, no military attack would succeed."

"Then we kill from a distance." Midnight spoke up, holding her sniper rifle. "Bioweapons." Midnight was the GEC assassin, as much a killer as Marcus, but using stealth and silence. She could poison you, stab you in the back or strangle you with wire, and supposedly blow the head off an insect from half a mile away.

"Impossible." Said Psion. "We have bioweapons stored here, but they don't infect Centrans. I could genetically adapt them, but we don't have the machinery, or even the time to test a functioning strain. And if we stole the machines, the Empire would know what we were doing. But even if we had functioning bioweapons to infect Centra City, civilians would be infected first. The Imperial palace would be hermetically sealed once the first deaths were reported, so not even a single microbe would get through." Psion shook his head. "To kill from a distance, the Emperor must die first, or have no chance to escape. With our current resources, neither is possible."

"You can outsmart the Empire." Marcus insisted. "You have to find a way."

"I can't find a way that isn't there."

"You must."

"You're not listening." Said Psion. "If I could change reality by wishing, I would simply wish the Emperor dead." He frowned. "But your idea is intriguing, I must admit. We would all be free, with the Empire broken."

Marcus looked at the GECs. All had been free to go for some time, but not one of them had moved towards the exit. "Then we will kill the Emperor."

"First we need a plan." Psion nodded. "All with expertise in any field of knowledge, you will assist me."

Most of the GECs left with Psion, leaving Marcus, Melissa, and a few others.

"So… what do we do?" Melissa asked, looking scared.

"Prepare for war." Marcus left for the training hall.

* * *

Over the next few days, a measurement of time Marcus was still getting used to, almost everyone worked non-stop. Ideas and schemes to stop Ouroboros were continuously discussed, tested and abandoned.

Marcus did nothing but train, ignoring the planning completely. Until they had something that could work, he didn't care, and had no ideas to offer. He danced with his sword every hour he was awake, pushing himself to move faster, hit harder, and become deadlier than ever before. His time would come, he knew. Once the strategy was decided, he would lead the attack, and then he would kill until the Empire was extinct.

He knew that the Centrans would probably kill him first, but it didn't bother him. He wasn't designed to be afraid, didn't have the capacity to worry. But every time he stopped training, a voice whispered in his mind that he might win, that he could still survive once the Empire was destroyed.

And that did scare him, just a little. Because he was a warrior, and the only purpose to his existence was to destroy his enemy. If he had no enemy, then what was left? What was he?

Marcus didn't have an answer, so he responded in the only way he knew how. Fight harder, push yourself further. Having time to think meant you weren't training hard enough.

A week went by. Psion, Ghost and the other GECs planning strategy were never seen. Melissa wandered the base, scared and depressed, and not knowing what to do about either. Marcus kept training, but even he was becoming desperate. Ouroborous had to be stopped, whatever the cost. But how?

Then Psion called a meeting. Marcus went with no expectations, as a warrior should. To expect something was to rely on it, lowering your guard if it wasn't there. And Marcus never lowered his guard to anything.

"Everything that exists has a weakness, a weapon against which it has no defence." Psion had set up a hologram display of Centra City, with the moon hovering far above. "As hardly any of you know, the moon will reach the lowest point in its orbit in less than two weeks. When this occurs at the same time as a rare fluctuation of the planetary magnetic field, the Lunar Cry will occur. As a result, many of the most bloodthirsty and powerful monsters currently living on the moon will be conveyed to our planet, at one specific location. Which is…" Psion flicked a switch, and a glowing column of mist appeared between the moon and the plains just outside Centra City. "Right on the Emperors doorstep."

"Surely he knows…" Someone said.

"Of course he knows." Psion sighed. "He has known about this for years, and has had plenty of time to stop it from getting close to Centra City. But his weakness is arrogance. He wants all his subjects to see the monsters destroyed, to witness his power. Observe."

Tiny people appeared within the hologram of Centra City, and monsters floated down through the column of mist to gather on the plains. Then the mass of monsters charged, and a glowing shield sprang out of existence around Centra City. Guns and missiles from behind the shield fired, blowing the monsters apart and burning them to ash.

Once all the monsters were dead, the simulation ended. "That is what the Emperor has arranged to happen." Psion reset the hologram to its original state, then six points within the city shone brightly. "Six computer networks, all interconnected, control the shielding and weaponry. If any network is shut down, the other five will activate the defences less than a second later, as well as alert every soldier in the city to the security breach."

"So how do we shut them down?" Marcus asked.

"We don't. We infect them, instead." Psion held up a datacard. "This holds a virus, able to infect every security network, but remain dormant and undetectable until two minutes before the defences come on. Then it activates, taking each network offline simultaneously, leaving the entire city all but defenceless."

The hologram played again, but this time, no shielding appeared, and the weapon batteries were silent. The monsters swarmed into the city, the tiny human figures running and screaming as they were bitten in half and torn to shreds. Blood splattered across the city streets, as a few tried to run, but none escaped. The carnage continued, until finally, all that moved were monsters, feasting on the hologramatic corpses littering the streets.

Most of the GECs were shocked, many were horrified, some were sick. Psion just smiled.

Ellone felt sick. Psion was _smiling_. It wasn't much of a smile, but… Every man, woman, and child in the city was going to die, and Psion was _enjoying_ this.

If he'd still been alive, Ellone wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near him. As for Marcus… She still wasn't sure how she felt about him. Marcus was going to kill millions of innocents, but he wasn't pretending it was the right thing to do, because it wasn't. He wasn't telling everyone they were doing it for the good of the world, that they were killing for the sake of peace, because they weren't. He just knew it had to be done, to stop Ouroborous.

Marcus had limits, and Ellone wasn't sure Psion had any.

"Any questions?" Psion asked.

"Have you two gone mad?" Melissa shrieked. "Do you know how many innocent men, women and children will die?"

"Approximately thirty five million." Said Psion. "But none of them innocent. Is it not said that every Centran is a soldier of the Empire?"

"But that's not true!"

"War will make it true. Any who survive will be our enemies as long as they live. For us to win, every Centran must die."

"But the children! You're killing defenceless children!"

"Better dead than Ouroborous." Said Marcus. "Better anything, than that."

"But Marcus… Hawk, you can't do this! There has to be another way! I can't let you do this!"

"You're going to kill me?"

"What? No!"

"Then you can't stop me." Marcus scowled. "What they did to me, I will do to them."

"But they didn't kill you, Hawk!" Melissa protested. "You're still alive…"

"YOU CALL THIS LIFE?" Marcus roared, his temper exploding. "This shallow existence of death, and blood, and nothing more? Never anything but a killer, no more purpose than death? I can't feel, I can't sense, I CAN'T LIVE!" He snarled. "So neither will they."

"But all those people…" As Melissa spoke, a part of her seemed to give up. "How many people have to die, Kensai? Just for revenge?" It was the first time she'd ever called him by his last name.

"As many as I can kill. More. Whatever it takes, they'll pay for what they did to me!" Marcus felt something strange rising at the back of his mind, and fought it back down with an iron will. "I'll drown them all in an ocean of blood. No more Empire. No more Brutes. NO MORE OF ME!"

Ellone realised she'd been wrong. In the present, Marcus had accepted his fate and what had been done to him, a resigned air that she'd thought was remarkably mature, considering. But this Marcus was different, hot tempered, furious and acting very much like Seifer. Marcus had good reason for losing his temper, when Seifer usually didn't, but still…

Marcus was out of control, and getting worse. But this was the past, and she couldn't change a thing.

"He has the right, Melissa." Psion cut in. "They took what was most important from him, so now he will take what is most important from them. A fair exchange."

"But you can't." She protested. "It's not human…"

"Neither am I." Marcus said, voice laced with frost. "If you have another way to stop Ouroborous, tell me, and I will listen. If not, I will do what I must."

"You do this, Kensai, then you're a monster."

"Yes." Marcus nodded. "I know. But I will be the last."

* * *

Marcus started the motorbike, then waited for Ghost to get on his. The two were the best choice for the mission, Marcus as the muscle to counter physical security, and Ghost as the hacker to get past the computer checkpoints and make any last minute changes to the virus program.

"Did you see Melissa?" Ghost asked, his voice deceptively easygoing.

"No. She wasn't there."

"Thought so." Ghost finally got onto the seat. He wasn't a fighter, but Marcus could fight for them both. Ghost could talk to people, make strangers feel calm and relaxed around him, skills Marcus knew he would never have.

Ellone couldn't help but agree with him on that point. Marcus could even give Squall lessons on being antisocial.

"Any plans after this is over?" Ghost asked. "Once we're free of Centra, I mean?"

"No." Marcus didn't care what happened then. Once the Empire was destroyed, nothing about him would matter. A world without an enemy would have no use for him.

"Psion's got plans." Ghost continued. "Ideas about everything. He even thinks he can extend our lives. Double human life expectancy, at the very least."

Marcus flinched, then forced himself to be calm. Ghost didn't seem to notice.

"Soon, he'll come up with a way to make us live forever."

Marcus shuddered, and almost fell off the bike. His thoughts crashed to a halt, blind terror freezing him solid. To exist forever…

_No. I will cease to be. My suffering must end._

He remembered his sword, and relaxed slightly. He had used the Blade of the Betrayer to kill, and the curse was on him. He would be betrayed, and he would die. He would not endure this existence forever.

He _couldn't_.

"Something wrong?" Ghost looked at him curiously.

"I am ready to kill." Said Marcus. "What more is there?"

Ghost accepted this as normal, which it was. "So will you be happy, if this works?"

"I am the Brute, and Brutes cannot be happy. Brutes only have purpose."

"But you're okay with this?"

"No." Marcus answered. "I will never be okay."

"Yeah, I'm starting to feel like that. I know it has to be done, but this is bad. Real bad. Millions of men, women and children… And this is just the start."

"It has to be done." Marcus drove away.

_So there will be no more of me._

* * *

Centra City was easy to enter, their forged ID getting them past every security check with ease. Ghost was posing as a supplier of financial and logistics software and technology, a vital part of the Empire, but so boring and completely unthreatening that nobody would be suspicious. Even if they were questioned, Ghost was an expert in every computer field, enough to convince anyone.

Marcus was a bodyguard, one of the roles the Empire had originally trained him for. He was wearing sunglasses, to avoid attention. Even with the coloured contacts he was wearing, his eyes looked dead.

Ghost's comm sounded, and he answered, speaking for a few seconds before ending the call.

"What is it?" Marcus asked. It had to be important. Psion wouldn't contact them otherwise.

"Typhon isn't here. He's dealing with a monster uprising in the north continent."

Marcus was disappointed. He didn't care if he killed him or not, only that Typhon died. The Empire's greatest warrior would be a problem in the future, but the plan had to continue. The Emperor was their objective, and Typhon would have just been a welcome bonus.

They walked faster to the security node, on the route they'd memorized. Everything was going according to plan, ahead of schedule…

And then a crowd burst out of a church, and everything fell apart.

Ghost was knocked aside, his slender frame carried away by the crowd. Marcus stood in place, his increased muscle and bone density holding him solid as people bounced off him. He looked around, trying to find Ghost, but he couldn't see anything. Ghost didn't have any distinguishing features. That was how he'd been designed.

Marcus moved with the crowd, shoving his way through people whenever he thought he saw something. But Ghost was nowhere to be found. Where was he?

Then he came to the centre of the crowd, and noticed a couple dressed in what were apparently wedding clothes. Melissa had talked about them sometimes, but Marcus had never seen the point of such a pre-mating ritual.

Then he saw the bride's face, her dark hair, her lips curled in a mocking smirk, and he forgot everything else.

It was Emmeline. The woman his creators wanted him to have children with. The bitch he had vowed to kill. The murderess who had killed Celine.

And the only person in the city who could identify him, aborting the mission and making every GEC as good as dead.

Their eyes met, and even through his sunglasses, Marcus thought he could see the flash of recognition in her eyes.

Marcus ducked into a side alley, leaving the crowd behind. He couldn't kill her, too many witnesses. But he couldn't let her talk, because if someone believed her, the GECs were doomed.

But Emmeline didn't know Ghost. Ghost could complete the mission. But Marcus had to find him first.

But when he left the alley, the last of the crowd was disappearing into a mansion at the end of the street, security guards and barrier locking them in. He couldn't get through. He checked the streets, but Ghost was nowhere to be found.

He checked his watch. Time was running out. He had to plant the virus. Ghost would do the same, if he weren't already. Centra City had to be destroyed, whatever the cost.

Marcus ran towards the nearest security node. The security pass Psion had forged got him inside the first few automated checkpoints, but then he encountered the guards.

There were two of them, big, muscular and heavily armed. Marcus slid a stiletto dagger into each palm, turning his hands to keep them hidden.

The guards approached in unison. "You must leave. Nobody is permitted to ent…" Marcus thrust with both daggers simultaneously, sliding between the ribs in exactly the same spot with each target, stabbing deep into the heart. Both men died instantly.

Marcus pulled out the daggers, and kept moving.

Several more corpses later, he was at the computer terminal. He took out a data disk marked with a red label, inserted it, and pressed a key to start loading. Password requests flashed up on the screen, then disappeared as the software broke through them. The virus loaded quickly, then the disk ejected. Marcus grabbed it and dropped it on the floor, emptying a vial of yellow liquid over it. The disk hissed, then began to melt as the acid dissolved it entirely.

He took out another data disk, this one marked blue, and edged it just inside the slot, as if it had just been ejected.

Now even if the Empire discovered the truth, there was no way to analyse the virus. The blue disk held fake data that appeared to be a virus, so even if the Empire found the virus came from this terminal, they'd waste what little time they had chasing a false trail that led nowhere. Psion had planned everything perfectly, as always.

Marcus checked his watch. Eight minutes to spare. Mission accomplished. He rushed out of the building towards the city exit. Ghost would have already left, he was sure. Ghost would have known Marcus would fulfil the mission.

It was dark outside, the approaching Lunar Cry causing an eclipse of the sun. People were watching in awe at the growing luminescence between the moon and the earth, not knowing what was about to happen. Imperial Guards still watched the streets, looking for anyone suspicious.

Then they saw him, and drew their weapons. For an instant, Marcus wondered what had gone wrong, then he remembered he was still wearing sunglasses. When it was as dark as midnight. When everyone wanted to see the Lunar Cry.

Marcus rushed towards the guards coming at him, catching them by surprise as they tried to form a defensive position. He easily knocked them aside with his enhanced strength and speed, tearing off the sunglasses as he jumped over a wall and darted down a side street.

The uproar spread rapidly, guards coming from all directions. "There's terrorists back there!" He yelled at the guards in his way, pointing behind him. "It's a slave uprising! They've got a bomb!" Psion had prepared a plan for every possible situation, and it worked perfectly. Marcus was obviously a pureblood Centran, so the rapidly spreading reports of slave race terrorists made the guards suspicious of everyone but him.

He reached the gates, and used his security pass against a side door. It was too late to escape on foot, as the monsters would overwhelm him. He entered the depot, all the military vehicles parked at the far end.

"That's him!" The door locked behind him, and spotlights flashed on from all directions. Marcus ducked behind a wall, drawing his sword. He'd left the Blade of the Betrayer behind, as it would have drawn too much attention, but any sword was deadly in his hands.

"Why are you hiding, rebel?" The mocking voice called out. "We're not going to kill you. We can't question a corpse!"

Marcus risked looking over the wall. A brigade of guards stood there, all with guns pointing at their hostages, purebloods and halfbloods, men, women and children. All defenceless. All afraid.

"I'll count to ten." The voice continued. "Then I'll kill half of them. You want them to live, drop your weapons and come out. If you want innocents to die, stay right where you are, and wait for us to come after you. Well?"

This was a standard tactic for the Centran military. Rebels were never ruthless enough to sacrifice innocent lives, so they always surrendered. Rebels didn't kill children.

But Marcus had already killed every man, woman and child in Centra City, innocent or otherwise. He noticed a fuel tank near to the guards, then ducked back beside the wall, and took out a grenade.

Ellone had seen the terrified children, the guns pressed against their heads as they cried out in fear. She already knew how many would have died because of Marcus sabotaging the city defences, but to kill terrified children personally… It felt worse. Much worse. _Surely he isn't going to…_

But he was. Marcus knew any surviving hostages would be torn apart and consumed by the monsters of the Lunar Cry, so his coldly rational mind had already decided that killing them now was a kindness.

"One…" As the voice counted, Marcus armed the grenade. "Two… Three…"

"Ten." He shouted, throwing the grenade at the fuel tanks. The fuel exploded, dying screams of hostages and guards alike mixing as one. Marcus got up and ran through the smoke. The blurred figures he came across hesitated when he became visible, not knowing if he was their enemy, when he had no such weakness, and killed them all as he ran past.

He jumped onto a _Caliburn_ jumpbike, and searched for a key. Not finding one, he ripped off the ignition panel. He'd forgotten which wires he needed to connect for a jumpstart, even if he could see them, so he stuck a dagger into the exposed wiring and jerked it about.

The engine roared to life, and the radio burst out music at full volume. Marcus set off at top speed, heading for the main gate through the rapidly thinning smoke as vehicles started up behind him.

The gates were already closing as he approached. Marcus activated the jump boost, and the bike flew into the air, soaring over the gate and landing outside the city. The voices on the radio were screaming in panic now, as the defences remained silent as the hordes of monsters approached.

He looked back as he drove on. Two of his pursuers soared over the gates on jumpbikes, but one landed badly and skidded out of control before flying off his bike, sealing his fate of being devoured by monsters.

The other was still in pursuit. Marcus saw the monsters surrounding the city, but there was a small gap ahead, wide enough to get through but rapidly closing. The jump boost wouldn't recharge in time, so he accelerated to maximum speed.

Bullets flew past him, and he swerved randomly left and right. The guard had a gun, and Marcus only had a sword. If one bullet hit him or the bike, he was doomed. He had to end this now.

Marcus leaned to one side, looking back at his pursuer as a bullet meant for his head passed through his shoulder. As he passed through the gap on the monster ranks, he raised his sabre, and threw it like a boomerang.

It hit the front wheel of the following bike, flipping it over and throwing the rider off. Marcus sped away, but the guard kept firing at him, determined to bring him down. Then the guard noticed the monsters coming for him.

More gunfire, but none aimed at Marcus. He focused on the road ahead, hearing the gun run empty, then agonised screaming and the tearing of flesh.

He didn't look back. He didn't need to.

Once he was far away from the city, Marcus slowed, listening to the radio.

"_The monsters are inside the city. They're killing us all! Our defences have failed! Nowhere is safe! The Emperor is dead! We're doomed!"_

Marcus nodded, feeling nothing.

"_Whoever did this…"_ A voice pleaded. _"Why? WHY? Why kill so many innocent…"_ There was the sound of a door crashing open, and the roaring of monsters. _"They're here!"_ The voice shrieked. _"Damn you, you evil, despicable demon! DAMN YOU TO HELL!"_ There was a scream of pain, then the transmission went dead.

_I'm already damned._ Marcus thought. _You made sure of that, so now I return the favour. Is that not fair?_

Ellone was shocked, horrified, as any human would be. Marcus wasn't.

He was _jealous_, knowing that Centrans would die quickly, their suffering would soon be over. His suffering endured, as it always did.

* * *

He gave his mission report to Psion. Ghost never returned, and Marcus never found out how he died. Melissa blamed him for Ghost's death by screaming abuse at him, and Marcus agreed with every word. After that, she avoided him.

* * *

"Are you crazy? We can't trust a Centran in charge? He'll side with his own kind! He'll turn on us as soon as…" The voice tailed off as Marcus entered the command tent.

As Psion had said, most of those making up his infantry command were boys, most not out of their middle teens. Those joining the rebels were rash and impetuous, with nothing to lose.

"You do not trust me." Marcus began, and the would-be soldiers started backing away from the one who'd spoken before. He still looked angry, but uncertain as well.

"I do not care." Marcus continued. "Your trust is irrelevant. Your beliefs are irrelevant. Your motives are irrelevant. Your concerns, your ideals, your feelings; all are irrelevant. Killing Centrans is the only thing that matters, the only thing of worth. From tomorrow, every one of you will keep killing Centrans until you are dead, or until the Empire is nothing but dust. Is that understood?"

"Killing Centrans?" The voice came from near the front. "Then why don't we start by killing y…" The unconscious body collapsed to the ground before anyone saw Marcus punch him.

"If you attacked, I would kill you all in minutes. You are not capable of killing me. You are poorly trained, with inferior weaponry. Many of you will die tomorrow. But you will kill Centrans."

"You won't." This was from the boy who'd spoken first. Ellone thought he looked vaguely familiar. "You won't show up tomorrow. You won't turn against your own kind."

"They have never been my kind." Said Marcus, as he left. "They made sure of that."

* * *

The next day, while they were waiting to ambush a Centran scouting battalion, Marcus studied the history of the rebel who'd accused him of siding with his own kind. The only name he'd given was Nathan, and he was the only survivor of his hometown. A few months ago, a Terminator killsquad had visited, and when they couldn't find whoever it was they were looking for, they'd ordered the townspeople to dig a large hole in the town square.

When the hole was deep enough, they'd killed every man, woman, and child in the town, thrown the bodies into the hole, and left them to rot.

Nathan had crawled past the bodies of his friends and family to get out, and spent several days drifting in and out of a coma. Not surprisingly, he'd butchered the first pureblood Centran he saw, and lived on the run, until now.

If Nathan survived this battle, he had potential. His hatred could be focused, making him a powerful warrior.

_Nathan?_ Ellone remembered a General Nathan, hero of the Centran Wars and one of the founders of the city-state of Esthar. Could it be…

"Wait." Marcus said, calling his troops to a halt. "When they come, we'll attack them here." Psion had identified the gully ahead as the best spot for an ambush. "Unless they know we're waiting from them."

"They don't know about us." Someone said. Marcus hadn't bothered to learn their names. Few would survive long enough for that, anyway. "We're too smart for them."

"They are smarter than us. Psion says…"

"Psion's a Centran!"

"Then so am I."

"And you're holding back." The would-be soldier finished, moving on as some of the troops followed. "So we don't need you. We don't need you at all!" He moved on, some of the troops following him.

Nathan was hanging back, scowling as he looked around. "Too easy…" He muttered. "It's never this easy…"

Marcus agreed. Centrans were never this unawares, never this stupid.

There was a snapping noise, and the soldier walking away tripped, and fell.

_Tripwire._ "Cover!" Shouted Marcus, and dived. Some others did the same, but many did not as the path ahead exploded in flames. The soldiers who'd gone ahead died instantly, and some of the rest were injured. A rockslide crashed down behind them, cutting off their escape.

And worse was coming, he knew. Once Centrans attacked, they didn't stop until all their enemies were dead.

Bullets flew at them, out of the smoke and fire ahead. A few of his soldiers died, the rest milling about, trapped by fear. Without experience or training, they were helpless against a disciplined enemy.

More rebels were cut down every second. Soon, they wouldn't have enough troops to fight with, and the Centrans would attack head on. The rebels had no support, no direction.

But Marcus didn't need either. He was a weapon, not a soldier. All he needed was a target.

_When under attack by a superior force, if you are without any means of defence, you have only one chance of victory. You must attack. _"Victory or death!" Marcus roared, drawing the Blade of the Betrayer. "CHARGE!" He ran towards the fire and smoke left by the explosion.

A second later, the rebels charged with him. He'd shocked them out of their paralysis, and they instinctively knew that following him was their only chance of survival.

Marcus ran through the smoke, hearing bullets zip past and bodies fall beside him. Those who fell were left behind. No compassion, no mercy.

He burst out of the smoke, seeing the Centran soldiers up ahead. From their uniforms, they were just basic infantry, nothing special, but there were more than he'd expected. The surviving rebels probably still outnumbered them, but not by much, and maybe not enough. The gunfire now sounded uneven, scattered. The Centrans were surprised.

But not for long. "Close combat positions!" The Centran front ranks formed a defensive wall, melee weapons ready.

"Arrowhead formation!" Marcus barked, the rebels forming into two lines behind him on either side, placing him at the point. An arrowhead formation was powerful but risky, being easily broken and dispersed if the leaders were killed. The Centrans knew this, so they weren't worried.

Then Marcus was almost there, and then the Centrans noticed. Noticed his sword, not the weapon of a rebel slave. Noticed his face, and his eyes. And then they realised they'd made a big mistake.

"That's not a slave! He's a Cen…" The soldier died in a gurgle of blood as Marcus cut him open, crashing into the line and forcing the Centrans back. One raised a sword, but was too slow to stop the GEC cutting off his arm at the elbow.

Marcus ignored him, attacking the soldiers that were still a threat. Nathan was just behind, and stabbed the maimed Centran in the throat. _In battle, killing enemies that are easily killed by others is a waste of time. A true warrior always fights the strongest enemies, those nobody else can kill._

The Centrans had better weapons, training and experience, and many rebels died quickly, but Marcus just kept killing, and where he could not kill, he maimed. An endless rush of Centrans crowded round him, trying to bring him down, but he was the GEC of battle, the Emperor's doom, moulded and shaped to be the ultimate weapon of war. And there was nobody and nothing that could stand against him.

While blocking the attack of one Centran, another came from the side. His sword occupied, Marcus sidestepped, grabbing the head of his second attacker and wrenching it round with inhuman strength until it snapped.

Behind him, the rush of the rebel attack had slowed, surrounded by Centrans on all sides. Casualties were heavy, and getting worse.

"Back to back!" Marcus gutted another enemy. "Group together! Let them come to us!" The rebels obeyed, bunching together and facing outwards, leaving no blind side for the Centrans to attack.

Marcus kept apart from them. He had no blind side, he moved too fast. No rebel, no _human_ could keep up with him. He took another sword from a corpse, killing and killing until his blades were drenched in blood.

Three soldiers were coming at him, from three different directions at once. Marcus only had two swords, and couldn't block three attacks.

So he blocked none of them. The two attacking from each side were careless, so he lashed out with his blades, one hacking through a chest, the other stabbing through a heart. The one in front was eager, so Marcus kicked him in the face, stunning him and knocking him back. The soldier recovered quickly, looking at his opponent just as the GEC brought both his swords together at neck height, in a scissors motion.

The headless body slumped to the ground, and everything was silent. Marcus looked around, but the battle was over. The surviving rebels, Nathan among them, were staring at him, like… Like the GECs looked at Psion when he solved something impossible. Like they couldn't believe what they'd seen.

Then, one by one, the rebels dropped to their knees, until everyone was bowing to him.

Marcus was surprised, and didn't know what to do. Fighting and war he understood, conflict he wore like a second skin, but this was new and unknown. He was inhuman, barely tolerated only as long as he was of use. That was his sole function, the only purpose to his existence. This didn't make sense.

_You saved their lives. _Ellone thought. _You saved them all. You're their hero, don't you see? _Some of his behaviour was making sense now. _You've no idea what it means to be respected, or valued, or cared about. You've never had friends. You've never had people wanting you around, just because you're… you. All you're ever been, is used. That's all you know, isn't it? That's all you've ever known._

"Get up." He told them, but they didn't move. "Get up!" They finally started moving. "Take what weapons you can use from the bodies, leave the rest. Quickly! We have more Centrans to kill!"

And the soldiers, his soldiers, did so. For the first time, Commander Kensai was truly in command.

* * *

And so the Centran war continued. Both sides driven to annihilate the other, no mercy asked or given. Blood and terror reigned in every corner of the world, and no community, settlement or person was safe.

The Sorceress of that time was unknown, and had made no attempt to join the rebellion. The Empire killed every Sorceress as soon as she was known to them, trusting no power but their own, but the powers always passed to a new host. Many generations of Sorceresses had stayed in hiding all their lives, most eventually being found, with a few presumably dying of old age. The current one evidently did not trust anyone. The rebel leaders called it cowardice, but Psion called it her survival instinct, since the rebels had little trust for power they could not control, and would probably try to burn her at the stake after the war anyway.

And Commander Marcus Kensai was the icon of the rebellion. The ultimate warrior that could never know defeat or rest, the unbeatable killer who wouldn't be stopped until the Empire was ashes. The rebels had many names for him. _Empire's Bane. The Dark Knight. Death's Chosen. The Empty One. _Some believed he was a fallen angel, or a demon, or the combined spirit of everyone who'd ever been killed by Centra, all their skills, memories and vengeance united into a single physical form.

Marcus didn't care what they called him. He was a killer, so he killed. And as he killed, his fame grew. The rebel leaders still said they were giving the orders, but for every soldier who'd ever fought with him in the front lines, Commander Kensai was the one they'd follow into hell itself. In every battle, his blade was among the first, usually the first, to kill. When rebel forces had to retreat, he was always the last to leave, reducing an 'indestructible' Centran war machine to scrap metal, or killing an 'elite' Terminator squad on the way.

Every rebel he'd fought with had stories of how he'd held his ground against impossible odds, how he'd charged the enemy when victory seemed unthinkable, and how the finest, supposedly unbeatable warriors of the Empire fell before him like wheat to a scythe. When Marcus led the Blades, his elite regiment of swordfighters, into battle, nothing could stop them.

Before this war, the Centrans had never known fear. But Marcus had taught them otherwise. Now, they feared _him_.

And they were desperate to kill him. Marcus didn't care, but he was considered too valuable to lose, so Psion had given all the Blades jumpsuits identical to Marcus. Every member of the Blades now fought every battle wearing a mask, further damaging Centran morale and spreading confusion. Any imperial attacking a Blade didn't know who their opponent was – a soldier, highly skilled but unlikely to turn the tide of battle, a squad leader, experienced and deadly and a match for any Centran, or Marcus himself, sudden death in the blink of an eye for anyone or anything that got in his way.

"You know what this meeting's about?" Asked Lieutenant Nathan, second in command of the Blades.

"Partly." Marcus knew what he needed to know, and nothing more. It was better that way. "Psion has a way to set in motion the destruction of the Empire."

"How?" Nathan had changed since the first battle, years ago. His need for revenge had become satisfied, at least in part. He was still as determined, but calmer, more focused on wider issues than his own kill count. All changes Marcus approved of. "We win some battles, they win others. It'll be years before either side has a definite advantage. Nobody can be certain we'll win this war, not yet. That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible for Psion." Said Marcus. "If he says he has a way, there is a way."

The meeting was at a round table, with Psion and Midnight on one end, and the rebel leaders on the other. Marcus didn't know their names, nor did he care. They were an irrelevance, their presence only tolerable for the soldiers they brought to the war.

"The Centran forces have always followed a clear command structure." Psion began. "As long as the one they are meant to obey is in command, they will never doubt themselves, never weaken from their purpose."

"We killed the Emperor." A rebel protested.

"We?" Psion raised an eyebrow. "The GECs killed the Emperor and Centra City, while you scurried away and hid." An uncomfortable silence followed.

"But the Emperor is dead, that is correct." Psion continued. "Along with many leaders of the Empire. But one was not in Centra City when it was destroyed, and he now commands the Centran armies."

"Typhon." Marcus confirmed, now knowing what Psion's plan was.

"Exactly." Psion nodded. "The finest warrior of the Empire. With him in command, they will always believe they will win. With him dead, thoughts of our victory will overwhelm the thoughts of every soldier of the Empire."

"Then kill him." One of the rebels snarled.

"We can't." Midnight's voice was deathly quiet, the few times she actually spoke. "Too well protected. Even I can't get near."

"Then maybe we should get someone better for the job." The rebel sneered.

Midnight grabbed a wooden plate, and threw it high in the air as she drew a handgun. The GEC assassin fired four shots, then caught the plate with her other hand, and lifted it up.

The four holes in the plate were in an exact straight line.

"Doubt me again" Midnight hissed. "And this will be your head."

"Typhon is not a fool. He is an excellent strategist, and is fully aware of his own importance. He will not risk his life needlessly, or lower his defences for any reason, except one. His weakness."

"Which is?"

"Arrogance." Psion smiled. "It's not enough for him to be the best warrior in the Empire. He must be seen to be the best warrior in the world, by everyone. He cannot tolerate a rival, and he is beginning to learn that he has one."

"Me." Said Marcus.

"So Typhon wants to challenge Commander Kensai?" Nathan was interested.

"No." Said Psion. "Not for some time yet. But Typhon knows Kensai is the one to kill, the rebellion's greatest champion. He cannot claim victory, as long as Marcus survives. Typhon will want him dead, no matter the cost. He'll sacrifice many men and war machines, but he will not risk himself, and probably the war, by attacking in person."

"So what do I do?" Marcus didn't see the point.

"Wait." Said Psion. "The longer you survive, the more the whispers will grow. Doubt will erode belief. Wait long enough, and he'll have no choice. Typhon will have to challenge you himself." Psion nodded. "And that's when you kill him."

"I will be ready." Marcus promised.

"And that's the end of the war?" Nathan sounded cynical.

"No." Said Psion. "Just the beginning of the end. But that will do."

* * *

The Centrans were more desperate to kill him now, Marcus knew. It didn't matter, as he would keep fighting as long as there were Centrans to kill. Either he would die, or he would not. Neither fate concerned him much.

But Melissa getting married did concern him. She still hated him, as she should, and had hardly spoken to him since the destruction of Centra City, but he'd heard from the other GECs that she wanted to get married to a rebel staying at the base. He didn't know how a wedding could be significant, but others thought it was. It was about love, or supposed to be, something else he didn't understand.

There was so much he didn't understand.

He asked GECs and rebels about love, and all but two of the answers made him even more confused. Psion had explained it as a mass delusion that was thought to have deeper meanings, but was simply the drive to produce offspring, creating lust and emotional dependency towards another person. He supposed Melissa might want children.

Midnight had told him love was the intense feeling of joy when the bullet you fired from your _Gungnir_ sniper rifle hit the eyeball of your target dead centre, from over half a mile away. He could identify with this, but he didn't think it applied to Melissa.

But it was the other things he'd heard, what a wedding could lead to, that had led him to the GEC base. He entered a room in the living quarters, and a man jumped in fright. He was spindly, not short, but delicate. Marcus could have snapped his spine in half, even with both hands broken.

"You are Gregor." Said Marcus. "Logistics planner of the rebel army. You intend to marry Melissa."

Gregor flattened against the wall, looking horrified. There was nowhere to run, not that it would have done him any good. Nobody got away from Marcus.

"Answer me." Marcus didn't openly threaten. With his reputation, he didn't need to.

"Yes." Gregor squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

"Is the wedding and marriage her decision? Does she choose it freely, and willingly?"

"Yes! Of course! I'd never force her to…"

"Enough." Marcus cut him off. Gregor seemed genuine, but it could still be a lie. "What was said during the…" He searched for the word. "Proposal?"

"Umm…" Gregor seemed to develop a tiny backbone. "I don't think I should be telling you. I mean, it's pers…" Marcus grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the floor with one hand. "Okay." Gregor squeaked. "It wasn't really a proposal… I mean, I didn't have the nerve to actually ask, but we were talking and we kinda… agreed that it sounded like a good idea."

Ellone couldn't imagine a less romantic proposal, and what Gregor said next was even more pathetic.

"She mentioned you, but... She said there was nothing between you. If that's wrong, then I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you mad…"

"She spoke the truth. There is nothing between us."

"You don't have a history with her?"

"History of what?"

"Err…"Gregor was torn between wanting to know, and not wanting to offend someone who was dangling his body above the floor. "A history of being together."

"All GECs were together. All GECs matured here."

"Yeah, I know, but not together as in grew up together, together as in… relationship? Dating? Wanting kids?"

"My children?" Marcus was disgusted. The taint of his genes, the removal of feeling and emotion for death and suffering, and this worm thought Melissa would want that? "You think she'd be that stupid? That worthless?"

"No." If Gregor shook his head any faster, it might have fallen off. "No. Definitely not. No way."

Marcus let go, and Gregor collapsed. "If it is her wish to marry you, so be it. If it is not her wish, I'll kill you."

"Okay." Gregor whispered as he got up.

"One more thing." Said Marcus. "I have heard that some marriages can lead to violence. That the male hurts the female, because he is worthless and enjoys beating another down to become worthless." Marcus stared into Gregor's eyes. "This will not happen in her marriage."

"Me do that?" Gregor was shocked. "No. Never happen. I'd never… Wouldn't dream…"

Marcus ignored him. "I have also heard that when this happens, the female begs others to forgive the male. That she becomes too dependent on him to object, or escape. This also will not happen."

He drew his sword. "Because I will not listen. Not to her, not to you. It won't matter how either of you begs, or makes excuses, or pleads for one more chance. I won't listen. The first time you hurt her, the first thing I will do is to cut you in half. Slowly." Marcus held the Blade of the Betrayer between Gregor's legs, sharp edge pointing up. "Starting here. Understand?"

Gregor had gone pale, and didn't respond.

"Do you understand?" Marcus repeated.

Gregor fainted, and would have sliced himself open as his body collapsed if Marcus hadn't pulled his sword back just in time.

The GEC sheathed his sword, and walked away. Melissa wanted this, and Gregor was not a threat to her, so his involvement was done. Perhaps love had something to do with it, whatever that was, but he still didn't understand what possible reason Melissa could have for wanting children with this man.

Ellone didn't understand it much either. _I've just met my great grandfather. And he's a wimp!_

A call came through on his phone, and Marcus answered. "Yes?"

"Typhon has lost his temper." It was Psion. "Let battle commence."

* * *

Marcus felt the blade cut into him, felt himself stumble backwards in a futile attempt to get away long enough to recover, when he knew neither getting away or recovery was possible.

Typhon's laughter was cutting into him, just like the blade. Mocking him, taunting him that he _just wasn't good enough._

He'd thought Typhon would want to feed his arrogance, beat him one on one. Instead, he'd been ambushed by machines and soldiers before he'd even seen where Typhon was. The men with him died quickly, and he had to kill everything Typhon threw at him by himself.

He'd done so, but it had cost him. When he'd got to Typhon, he was injured, tired, and the painkilling effect of his adrenalin rush had already run out.

Marcus attacked low, curving his blade up at the last instant. Typhon blocked it with little difficulty, then brought his own katana down to the left. Marcus took one step back as he parried, but only just. His counter was too slow to be effective, and Typhon attacked again.

Marcus was forced to retreat. He was on the defensive.

He was losing.

_It isn't fair_ he thought, but then forced his mind into focus. There was no fairness in battle, no rules. Only victory, and vanquished. Conqueror, and conquered.

_Vae Victus._

A boot in his ribs knocked the wind out of him, and he rolled back, even further away from the cliff edge. He was running out of room to retreat to. Typhon was playing with him, backing him into a corner. Drachen would have called him a fool, being too arrogant to kill his enemy when he had the chance.

But fool or not, Typhon was winning.

"And you were meant to replace me?" Another laugh. "Truly pathetic. The best of the rebels is hardly worthy of my blade."

Marcus attacked. Typhon blocked with little difficulty, then countered, gashing open the GEC's face. Marcus ignored the pain as the irrelevance it was, keeping his guard up.

"You're nothing but a freak." Typhon smirked, and Marcus fought to keep his rage under control. "A failed experiment, a failed warrior. And now, you're failing again. You can't rebel. You can't even fight!"

Marcus lost his temper. Fighting was all he could do, all he was. If he couldn't do that, he was nothing. He charged at Typhon, screaming for blood.

Of course, Typhon was expecting that, and swatted him away like a fly.

Marcus slid across the ground, leaving a bloody trail before getting to his feet. His movements were slower now, his actions less precise. He'd been through too much. Pain he could ignore, exhaustion he could push through, but even a GEC body had limits. And he'd reached them. Maybe even passed them. He couldn't keep fighting much longer, and there was no hope he'd beat Typhon.

_A warrior does not need hope. A warrior needs only strength of will._ His reflexes took over, moving his sword into a guard position automatically.

"Are you still trying to win?" Typhon mocked. "Why bother? You'll die soon enough. You were dead the moment you challenged me."

"I've always… been dead." Marcus snarled. "I just never… stopped moving."

"Well, I can cure that." Said Typhon. "And then, your puny little rebellion will crumble. The Empire will be reborn. And who better for an Emperor, than me?"

_No._ He couldn't allow the Empire to rise again. The Centrans would never be this weak again. This was the only chance of freedom for the slaves. The only chance of vengeance for him, for he would never be free. But now, Typhon was taking it all away. Taking everything.

Deep inside him, something was waking up. Something different. Something new.

"And you'll be what you always should have been. Nothing. A worthless mistake, a failed experiment that should have been disposed of a long time ago. Your petty uprising will never stand against the true master race. The Empire will rebuild again, stronger than ever before."

_Fight with everything you have._ A lesson he thought he'd learned a long time ago, but what if he hadn't? He didn't know what was building inside him, but he knew it was power. Power he'd never known or felt before, power he couldn't control. What was it?

"And I will be Emperor." Typhon laughed. "I suppose I should thank you, really. If not for you, I'd have always been just another Typhon." He smiled. "Perhaps you should join me?"

Marcus spat blood. "Join you?" He attacked, better than before but still not good enough. They exchanged blows a few times, then Typhon got past his guard and slashed his stomach before kicking him in the ribs. Marcus rolled away before collapsing. He got to his knees, but didn't stand up. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway.

"That was a joke." Typhon smirked. "Why aren't you laughing? Did they take that away as well?"

Yes. They'd taken laughter. They'd taken hope, and dreams, and life. They'd taken _everything_.

He remembered it all. When he was a child, beaten and tortured for the amusement of his creators. _Weak._ When he was trained, broken and battered to serve the will of his masters. _Pathetic._ When he rebelled, killing the only people who would ever have accepted him. _Failure._ When he destroyed Centra City, condemning him forever in the eyes of everyone. _Monster._

And once he died, the rebellion would be crushed, and Centra would do it over and over again.

_Never._

"The Empire…" Marcus hissed. "Had… no… right…"

"Right?" Said Typhon. "Such a ridiculous concept. When you have power, what else is needed?"

_NeverNeverNeverNeverNever…_

Centra had taken everything. Life. Hope. Future. Peace. Happiness. They stole, they tortured, they ripped him apart, they laughed…

They DARED…

_Fight with everything you have, everything you are._ Drachen had taught him this, and Marcus was taking the lesson further than anyone believed possible.

Deep inside his mind, barriers shattered, emotions hidden for over a decade flooding out. Rage combined with anger, and was multiplied by hate, boiling inside him, thirsting for the kill. Any kill.

_Everything that exists is a weapon._

The blood.

The rage.

The _BLOODRAGE_…

"Any last words?" Typhon was about to attack.

Marcus looked up, and screamed. Not in pain, or fear. This was a scream of hate, from someone who'd finally realised life held nothing good, nothing fair or kind to hope for. The scream of someone who'd felt nothing but pain, and now wanted nothing but to pass it on to everyone else.

Ellone had never heard it before, and would have given almost anything to never hear it again.

Marcus felt the darkness at the core of his being blossom into life, and consume him utterly. In an instant, Marcus Kensai ceased to exist.

The thing that replaced him was something else entirely.

It leapt to its feet, causing a rush of intense pain. It savoured the intensity of the feeling, delighted in the agony flooding its body. Knowing there was no greater pleasure than in pain.

"Got your second wind?" Typhon's voice interrupted its reverie. "Good. At least now you'll provide some small amusement."

The Bloodrage couldn't talk, not that it would have anyway. Only humans and those who acted human could speak, and the Bloodrage was neither. It looked at Typhon, one of the living. The living had hurt it, tortured it, imprisoned it. Used it as a slave. The living must pay. All of them. Every one of the living was to blame, so every one of them would die, in blood and pain, agony and suffering.

But only one of them was here. Only one! A million deaths would not be enough to satisfy the Bloodrage!

But for now, one would have to do. It thought of the pain it could inflict, the suffering it would force upon the living.

Then it started to giggle, and couldn't stop.

Typhon couldn't believe it. "You think acting insane will frighten…"

The Bloodrage attacked, and Typhon only just parried a swing that would have taken his head off. The next attack cut into his shoulder, and the third would have cut off his arm if he hadn't stepped back at the last second. For the first time, Typhon was caught by surprise, giving ground to his opponent. The Centran Commander had watched Marcus fighting and killing his men, noting the limits of the GECs speed and strength, how long it took for Marcus to get tired and slow down.

The Bloodrage was laughing its head off, stronger and faster than Marcus had ever been, growing more powerful with every hit received or inflicted. It attacked like a fire threw sparks – rushed, unpredictable, and relentless.

A cut to the legs and Typhon sidestepped, only to barely block a thrust to the heart, Their blades locked, and Typhon twisted his blade to create an opening. The Bloodrage just laughed harder, and headbutted Typhon before he could attack. Typhon fell back, drawing a short sword with his other hand.

Typhon wasn't arrogant any more, wasn't dominant or in control. He just wanted his enemy dead, the first chance he got.

But the Bloodrage wasn't giving him a chance. Typhon was the finest warrior of his generation, unbeaten in combat for the decades since he'd taken his title, with vast experience in killing all manner of man and monster that walked the planet. But the Bloodrage was neither man nor monster. It was a demon, the creation of all of Centra's evil warping and breaking the mind of an innocent child. Typhon had never met an opponent like this, one more corrupted, more evil, and even more driven than himself.

Back and forth they clashed, fighting to decide the fate of the world. Typhon was calling on all his experience and training as the best warrior in the Empire, but it wasn't enough. He'd held back at first, waiting for the Bloodrage to slow down and stop attacking, but he soon realised that wasn't going to happen. The Bloodrage just kept coming, never stopped attacking, never stopped laughing. Thunder in its arms, maniacal and unstoppable.

Both were bleeding heavily now, breathing raggedly, one glaring and determined, the other grinning and insane. Then Typhon scissored his blades to trap his opponents, a simple tactic that any sane soldier would have seen a mile away. He tore the Blade of the Betrayer from the Bloodrage, sending it flying over the edge of the cliff.

Typhon kicked the Bloodrage in the ribs, victory all but assured as his enemy fell back. Typhon raised his sword for the beheading stroke, short sword pointing at the Bloodrage to guard long enough to make the killing blow. He had won.

But as Psion had said, Typhon's fatal flaw was arrogance.

Bloodrage charged at Typhon, ignoring everything but his opponent. The short sword impaled it in the gut, but didn't slow it down.

Typhon's eyes widened in shock, as he finally realised his mistake. There was only one thing his enemy wanted, but it wasn't survival. It just wanted to kill him. Typhon wasn't ready, his sword was too high to strike fast enough. And worst of all, he'd forgotten where he was standing.

Then the Bloodrage crashed into him, and both of them went flying over the cliff edge.

And the Bloodrage howled in triumph, all the way down.

* * *

The Bloodrage opened its eyes. It was lying on a mound of broken rubble, legs and one arm twisted at impossible angles. It tried to stand, but couldn't. Hissing in fury, it wrenched its legs into position. Pain filled its senses, but it could enjoy that later.

Finally it could stand, if only just. Where was the living? Its vision blurred, and it smacked itself in the face before it saw Typhon lying still. It staggered over, ready to inflict pain and suffering beyond imagination.

But it was too late. Typhon had landed on a rocky spike, which had impaled his chest and gone straight through his heart. A look of horror was frozen on his face as he looked down at what had killed him.

The Bloodrage snarled in impotent rage. It wanted Typhon to suffer more than this, much more. But there was more of the living to torture, to extract vengeance from flesh and agony.

But first, it wanted a trophy.

The Bloodrage searched for its sword, and cut deep into Typhon's neck before lodging into the collarbone. Frustrated, it tore the blade free, and tossed it aside. Then it grabbed the head with both hands, and tore it off Typhon's shoulders, raising its gory prize as it screamed in delight at the sky.

* * *

He kept crawling, dragging his body along in the dust. He hadn't been able to walk for some time, and this was the best he could do, trailing blood as he dragged the package behind him, wrapped in a uniform.

He finally reached the slope leading to the rebel encampment. He was almost there. He looked down the path, trying to find a way down, struggling to focus past the dull roaring in his ears.

Then he felt himself leaning forward, and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes again, he was even more battered and broken than before, and over a dozen guns and swords were pointing at him.

"It's Kensai." Captain Nathan's voice. "Stand down. And call the medics. Now!"

"What if it's a disguise…"

"You can't disguise blood." Nathan snapped. "It's Kensai. Now holster your gun before you shoot me in the foot, dammit! And call the medics!"

His blood was another thing that would forever mark him as different. Humans bled crimson, but Marcus bled the colour of rust. None of the rebels knew why, and after a few examples of his temper, nobody dared ask.

"Why isn't he fighting Typhon?" Someone was angry. "Why did he run?"

"If Typhon's alive, he'll lead the attack. He'll kill us all! All because of this coward! We should…" The voice tailed off, due to a sword held against the speaker's throat.

"You should keep your head." Captain Nathan held his sword perfectly steady. His men stood behind him, all wearing the same black jumpsuit, all hands on swords. "Or you'll lose it. Understand?"

They backed away. The Blades were the elite of the rebel forces, and loyal only to each other. Even without Marcus, nobody wanted to get in their way.

"Marcus?" Nathan crouched, as field surgeons and nurses crowded round the body of the GEC, bandaging wounds and inserting drips. "Can you hear me? What happened?"

Marcus, barely able to move, pointed towards the package he'd dragged with him.

"We'll have to evacuate. Typhon will be leading an army here!" The soldiers were getting hysterical, as Nathan looked inside the package.

"We're doomed. He'll kill us all! The best warrior on the planet, and he'll be here any second…"

"Without this?" Said Nathan, pulling Typhon's head out of the package.

Then there was nothing. You could have not only heard a pin drop, but heard it falling through the air as well.

"He's dead?" The first voice was always an idiot, apparently.

"Head and body, two separate places, usually has that effect. Yes."

"But how?"

"Doesn't matter." Nathan growled. "Typhon thought he was the best, the greatest warrior, but he was wrong. Now, Typhon's dead, and the greatest warrior in the world fights with us!" The Blades cheered, and soldiers from all over the camp joined them as soon as they saw what remained of Typhon.

"Get the loudspeakers and vid cameras! Start transmitting!" Nathan continued. "Make sure everyone knows! Everyone!" He climbed up onto a platform, holding Typhon's head as he looked out over the rebel encampment.

"The Empire's finest is dead!" He shouted, getting everyone's attention. "Typhon couldn't kill Commander Kensai, and the Empire can't kill us! You're not the master race, Imperials!" He raised the grisly trophy high above his head. "THIS is the proof!"

There was cheering, and Nathan waited for it to die down before continuing. "Now we have the advantage, and we're going to use it! We've fought this war for long enough! Now it's time to start WINNING!"

A deafening roar erupted throughout the camp. The rebels were fired up, ready to do anything. Overthrow the Empire, change the world. They'd do it all.

Marcus just lay there. He'd done enough. And he hadn't done it for them, anyway.

"Marcus?" He could hear Nathan's voice. "You okay?"

Then the darkness took him, and he heard nothing more.

* * *

Marcus woke up in a medical tent. Rebel camps were always made of temporary structures, that could be moved or destroyed in a hurry when an evacuation was declared. The tent should have been filled with the wounded and dying, but there was nobody else there. They must have all been moved, to make way for him. Marcus sneered.

_Idiots._

He got out of bed, and performed a series of assessment exercises. His muscles were damaged, his speed and power reduced to almost human levels. His blood loss had been severe, but his wounds had already closed, his GEC body quickly repairing the flesh. No permanent damage, full recovery expected within a couple of days.

Food and drink had been laid out for him, the finest the rebel army could find. Exotic dishes and sweetmeats from every slave culture on the planet, with bottles of wine and spirits, including some rare vintages looted from the Centrans.

Marcus had never understood why humans were so obsessed with taste. Food was fuel. The synthetic nutrient paste from the GEC base was all he needed. And drink was hydration, so water was always best for that. Fruit juice gave extra nutrition, which made sense, but what was the point of soda? As for alcohol, it made you weak, and every rebel needed strength to fight this war.

But even he had to eat. Marcus chewed at a hard loaf of tasteless army bread that an invalid must have left behind, washed down with a jug of tepid water, as he thought about the Bloodrage.

It wanted to kill everyone. Every human on the planet. It had taken him over, and he'd let it happen.

And he knew he would do so again, if he had to. If he needed the Bloodrage to destroy the Empire, he'd use it again. And again, and again, as many times as it took. However many died in the process.

Yet more proof of the monster he'd become.

He saw his reflection in a mirror, and scowled. He'd heard female rebels describing his looks, naming him attractive, handsome. With low chances of survival from one day to the next, long term relationships were rare among the rebel army, and sex was just another means of physical release and relaxation. Some females even overlooked his being a Centran, and made blatant attempts to mate with him.

He couldn't understand what was wrong with them. Couldn't they see what he was? Didn't they understand what he'd become? Were they so blind, they'd mate with a demon?

The last time he'd been at the GEC base, he'd asked Psion what life meant, what it was. Psion had showed him a rat he'd been experimenting on, and asked if it was alive. It seemed obvious it was, and Marcus had said so.

Psion had raised the temperature, and after a few minutes the rat had shuddered. Then large worms had burst out of every inch of its skin, leaving a bloodied carcass behind.

Psion told him that the rat had been dead as soon as it became infected. He said for most individuals, life was just such an illusion. That most were just gears in the machine, used for a while for a greater purpose they knew nothing of, then wearing out and being replaced.

Marcus identified with the rat. They were both dead already, being consumed from within. He looked at the mirror again. A mask of flesh looked back, a covering wearing thin, but still hiding the decay and corruption inside. For now.

He drew his sword. Suicide would be easy. The work of a moment, to end his pain. He didn't fear death, he welcomed it. He always had.

But if he killed himself, then Centra would have won, and he would have surrendered. If his existence was so unbearable he had to end it, then the final victory belonged to the Empire.

And that he could never accept. Whatever the cost, he would destroy them. He would allow the Empire no victory. He would allow them nothing at all.

He knew revenge wouldn't change what he was. It wouldn't take the pain away, it wouldn't help or ease his suffering. Nothing could. But vengeance was all he had, so it would have to do.

He took off his dog tag. It named him a Brute, but he was worse than that. Much worse. He reached into a pile of weapons (all rebel dwelling had weapons, in case of ambush) and took a curved dagger, then began to etch lines on the back of the tag, slowly trying to carve the words _Ego Sum Non Dignus._

_I am not worthy._

But the dagger blunted quickly, so he threw it away and used another.

And another, and another.

* * *

The war continued, but not as before. Imperial forces were beaten to a standstill, then forced into retreat. Rebel forces abandoned stealth tactics, and made direct attacks. Many died, but there were always more, while every Centran dead was irreplaceable. The tide of war turned, the Empire becoming ever more desperate. War machines replaced soldiers of the Centran forces more and more, but Psion always knew their weaknesses, devising the most effective strategies against them each time.

Melissa became pregnant, and gave birth to a baby boy. Marcus stayed away. He knew his limitations. Her son should have inherited the Chronos powers, as GECs had been designed to breed true, but Melissa refused to have her son tested.

The rebels were winning, and the GECs began to think of the future. The end of the war was no longer in doubt. Or so they thought.

Marcus thought little of the future. So long as he could kill the last pureblood Centran, stare into their eyes as they died and explain why their Empire was dust, he didn't care. After that, death couldn't come soon enough for him.

Then one day, all that their futures could have been was shattered in a single blow.

* * *

"I estimate the number of soldiers to be greater than quarter of a million, probably half, assisted by thousands of war machines, and light to medium artillery." Psion announced in the central hall of the base, emotionless as always. "They have already killed all rebel forces in the area, and will attack us within three to four hours."

"And the remaining allied forces?" Marcus asked.

"Fighting scattered Centran uprisings across the globe. General Nathan is the closest, but he is at least twenty four hours distant." Psion adjusted the hologram displays. "The Empire has had this planned for a very long time. This is their last push, their only hope of victory. Nothing has been left to chance."

"So we fight alone." Marcus drew his sword, running through a practice exercise. "What is the projected outcome?"

"One hundred per cent GEC fatalities." Psion stated. "For all possible scenarios."

Marcus paused, then tilted his head in the Centran equivalent of a shrug. "So be it."

A storm of protests erupted from the other GECs. "If we all die, what's the point of fighting?" Melissa demanded. She'd gotten more forceful recently, ever since her son was born, although both he and her husband were currently with General Nathan's army. "We have to get out of here now!"

"We can't." Said Psion. "They are coming here to make sure that every GEC dies. They will have equipment to detect life signs for miles around, so we can't hide, and genetic samplers to test organic tissues, so we can't fake our corpses by disguising other dead bodies. While one of us lives, they will not stop."

"Can't the AI help us?"

"_Core protocol: to kill any Centran pureblood is forbidden under any circumstances."_ The synthesised voice chimed in. _"I cannot disobey. In combat against purebloods, I cannot intervene."_

"If we can't run, then we must fight." Said Marcus.

"No." Psion shook his head. "To fight is to die. To run, to hide, to surrender – all end in death. We can only survive, if we wait for them to leave."

"What?" Melissa screeched. "Are you insane? Why would they do that?"

"Because we will no longer be among the living." Psion turned to leave. "All those who want to be slowly tortured to death, stay here. All who wish to live, assemble in the Sorceress vault."

All the GECs followed, even Marcus. He wasn't that interested in survival, but he couldn't kill any more Centrans if he was dead. Psion kept quiet the whole time, refusing to answer any questions.

"The Sorceress Vault." Psion announced when they arrived. "As few of you know and none of you fully understand, the immense magical powers of a Sorceress do not die with her. The gift is passed on to a 'Potential', a girl or woman carrying the genetic pattern to 'host' the Sorceress gift. Centra has always hated every Sorceress, for having power the Empire could not control. As soon as they found the genetic pattern, they purged it from the pureblood race, and would have done the same to the slave races if Ouroborous had not taken a higher priority."

"But to eliminate the Sorceress herself, the Empire needed a new strategy. Killing her would have meant her powers reborn, so they would freeze her in suspended animation instead, along with any surviving potentials they could find. That way, all the sorceress powers would have stayed with her, locked away forever."

"So?" Midnight remarked acidly.

"So we seal ourselves in the cubicles, and activate cryostasis."

"What?" Melissa shouted. "But we won't be able to escape! If we're in stasis, we won't even be alive!"

"So there will be no life signs." Psion pointed out, unruffled as ever. "And the Centrans will be unable to detect us. If we fight or if we hide, they will kill us. But if we disappear, they will leave to fight the rebel armies. Then we reappear, we fight on our terms, and we kill them. Fuse and Spark?"

The twins stepped forward. The brother and sister team were the explosives and sabotage experts of the GECs. "Set all the charges to detonate just before the Centrans arrive." Psion told them. "The explosion must convince them there is nothing to salvage, and it has to look like an accident. Everything depends on this."

Fuse and Spark left. "AI, you will convince the Centran army that every one of us is dead."

"_Full authorization required."_

"Do it." Marcus didn't hesitate. He trusted Psion implicitly.

Not for the first time, Ellone wondered if he should.

"Everyone else, prepare for cryostasis. We cannot be sure the army will be fooled, so the stasis will last six months."

"Six months!" Melissa screeched. "We can't! What about my son? My husband? I can't just leave them!"

"You will leave them for six months." Psion told her. "Or you will leave them permanently. Make your choice."

Nobody ever won an argument with Psion. Melissa was one of a very few who still tried.

Marcus only had two personal items, his sword and dog tag, and gave them to the AI for storage. He knew Melissa was watching him, but she wasn't watching him like she usually did, like everyone did.

Like they thought he was going to kill them.

"Kensai?" She asked finally. "You're okay with this?"

"Centra could still win the war." Said Marcus. "I can't let that happen. I have to survive."

"Oh." Silence, then "You don't think much of Gregor, do you?"

"I don't think of him at all." Marcus told her the truth. "He was your choice. That was all I needed to know."

Melissa was quiet after that, until she said. "I'm scared."

"The cryostasis? It should work. Psion has never failed before."

"Not about that." Said Melissa. "Well, not just that. I'm scared about everything. Even if the Empire falls, it'll be a whole new world. What if it isn't any better?"

"It could not be worse. Nothing could."

"But we're Centran. We're the enemy, or they could easily think we are. What if the rebel army turns on us? My family won't stand a chance…" She hung her head. "Kens… Marcus, I know how I've treated you, and I know I don't have any right to ask, but…

"You want me to protect them?"

"Yes." Her voice was barely even a whisper.

"Done."

"What?"

"Nobody will hurt you, or any of your family. Not while I breathe. Death will be swift for all who try."

"Really? But…"" Melissa was speechless, her jaw hanging open. Marcus didn't understand why.

But Ellone could. Melissa had expected to beg for his help, to have to apologize over and over again, pleading for him to protect her family. And even then, she probably hadn't expected him to agree. She hadn't thought it would be so easy, that he'd pledge his life without a second thought. Not after how she'd treated him, how she'd hated him.

But Melissa didn't get it. Marcus didn't mind how much she hated him, because he hated _himself, _more than she ever could. His self-hatred was so intense, so overwhelming, that nothing anyone ever felt for him could hurt more. He didn't blame her. Why would he? The entire world could hate him, and he'd think it was justified.

Melissa just didn't have a clue. All those years, growing up together, and she didn't know him at all. She never had…

"You mean it?"

"I don't lie."

"Yeah, I know, but…" Melissa changed the subject. "Are you happy? This war… It's what you wanted, right?"

"Wants are irrelevant. Happiness is irrelevant. Ouroborous had to be stopped. The Empire has to be destroyed. What the Emperor wanted could not come to pass. That was always my purpose, whatever the cost."

"And once the Empire falls?" Said Melissa. "What will you do then?"

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "It doesn't matter."

Another long period of silence. Ellone could tell that Melissa was working her way up to saying something, but Marcus was oblivious. He just waited.

"Listen, I… I mean, I want to… I have to say…"

_She's going to say she's sorry._ Ellone suddenly realised. _She's going to forgive him for Centra City. For everything._

But Marcus had never mentioned that. He'd said Melissa always hated him. And he wasn't a liar. Which meant…

""Well…" Melissa still wasn't able to say. "About what I always said… I mean, I…"

_Tell him!_ Ellone tried to tell her great-grandmothers mind, trying to make this real, not just a memory. More than ever before, she wanted to change the past. _Tell him you forgive him! Tell him you're sorry! Tell him you were wrong! Don't back out. Don't wait for another day! You won't get another chance! Tell him, or he'll still be torturing himself eighty years later! Tell him now! JUST TELL HIM!_

"Never mind." Melissa gave up, shaking her head. "I'll tell you after the stasis."

_No you won't_ Ellone thought, as Marcus watched her walk away.

The final preparations made, Marcus stepped inside his cubicle. The door closed automatically, locking itself down as the equipment around him hummed into life. First, the stasis projectors would turn on, and then the cryo cooling would activate a second later, to preserve the stasis field. Marcus didn't worry. Either it would work and preserve him, or fail to work and kill him. Neither was worth his concern.

Marcus had just started to blink, when there was a _click_, and time stopped dead.

* * *

Marcus completed the blink as the door hissed open. He leaned forward, falling out with a stagger before crashing to the floor. Thoughts whirled about his head, scattered and unfocused.

"_Lie down."_ A synthesised voice told him, and Marcus obeyed without knowing who it was, or caring. _"You should recover shortly, although you are the first ever revival from long term stasis."_

His mind blurred, swimming in and out of consciousness. Slowly, he began to think more clearly, and something felt wrong. He was alone, and that was normal for him. But there were still people who should have been here. Melissa. Psion. Midnight. Where were they?

He got up, and looked at the cubicles. None of them had opened, and nobody was moving. And they all had ice inside them. His hadn't.

Marcus started to realise something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He looked at Melissa through her cubicle door. She looked asleep, but a part of him knew she wasn't.

"When will she be revived?" Marcus asked the AI.

"_Revival is not possible. She is dead."_

His thoughts turned to metal, hard and sharp and tearing through his sanity. "She can't be. Bring her back!" He punched the door. "MAKE HER LIVE!"

"_She has been dead for eighty years. Revival is impossible. A power surge distrupted the stasis, leaving only the physical form preserved in cryo. She is dead. Every other GEC is dead. You are the only survivor."_

_Only survivor…_ The foundation of his identity crumbled, and his mind cracked open. This couldn't have happened. It couldn't. Death should have come for him, not them. Every one of them had wanted to live, Melissa most of all. Marcus had wanted to die. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"No." He whispered. This was too much. He'd killed countless times, he'd committed genocide without flinching, but he couldn't handle this. So he denied it. He denied everything.

Melissa couldn't be dead, so she wasn't. Since she was alive, this body couldn't be her. So Melissa had to be somewhere else. And that meant he had to find her.

His dog tag had been dispensed by the AI, so he wore it around his neck. He walked to the exit door. He needed to find Melissa. Because…

"She isn't dead." He said.

Silence.

"She isn't dead." He repeated.

"_Life signs have ceased."_ The AI began, but Marcus argued until it gave him his sword and let him out.

* * *

Marcus didn't know where Melissa was, so he chose a direction at random. When monsters got in his way, he killed them. Whenever he was hungry, he ate whatever was available, raw. He had no time to waste.

The landscape had changed entirely, and was hard to recognise. The idea that so much time had passed was a thought he couldn't process, so he ignored it. He avoided the few settlements he saw for the same reason. Settlements meant people. People would ask questions, and that would force him to think, and he couldn't do that.

When he came to the sea, he stole a boat, loaded it with all the food and water he could easily find, and set off across the ocean. He didn't know or care where he was heading, so he never bothered to navigate.

Alone and abandoned on the ocean, with nothing but a tiny boat and little food or water, would have broken most men. But Marcus was not a man, and he was already broken. The trip gave him time to settle his thoughts, and when he found land some days later, he was less paranoid, though still delusional. He'd realised that to find Melissa, he would need information. He had to ask questions, find answers.

So when he saw the city of Esthar, he headed straight for it. He asked people where Melissa was, when he thought they might know, but nobody did. Some asked him questions, but he never answered. Some tried to rob him, and he never bothered to hide their bodies afterwards.

He was walking down an alleyway when he first felt hope, when he saw the woman three men were holding captive. It was too dark to see her face, but she had the right height, build, and hair colour. It had to be her.

He was dimly aware of somebody threatening him, but that didn't matter. They were threatening her, and if she was Melissa, then he'd kill them all.

Then he saw her face. Not Melissa. Just another of the slave races. Irrelevant. Worthless. He walked on, leaving her to the men's sick mercies. He knew what they were going to do to her, but he didn't care. She wasn't Melissa, so she didn't matter.

Then the men attacked him. He killed the first two automatically, not needing to think. When the third drew his sword, he became irritated.

_I don't have time for this. I have to find Melissa. Get out of my way!_

One cut, and the man was dead. They were amateurs, barely worthy to hold a weapon. He walked on, noticing the woman shrinking away from him as he went past. He ignored her. She wasn't in his way, so she was nothing.

Then he saw the poster. He saw _her_. This was proof she was alive, and it told him where she would be tomorrow.

But a voice inside his mind whispered that it wasn't her, telling him that she couldn't have survived, that the woman in the poster looked different, couldn't be that young when so many years had passed. That he was fooling himself.

He ignored it. She had to be alive. That was all that mattered.

But the voice didn't stop, even when he watched her at the speech. Whispering to him about all the little ways she was different from Melissa. How she'd seen him, but didn't seem to recognise him. His sanity was fighting his delusions. Even when the gunfire started, he couldn't choose what was real, couldn't make sense of it.

Then someone shouted _Kill his daughter! Kill Ellone Loire!_ And Marcus realised what it meant. He threw aside the bodies between him and the person he had to protect. Sane or insane, Melissa Trelaine or Ellone Loire, he could not allow her to be hurt. Not while he breathed. Not ever.

Marcus jumped on the platform, the first cut taking the arm and the gun of the man about to shoot her, the second cut taking their head. More attacked him, and he killed them all.

With his modified adrenalin blocking all pain, he only felt a slight pressure against his stomach when they shot him, falling to his knees through the muscle shock without knowing why. Then he panicked, and looked behind him, and saw that she was safe.

Then he saw the bullet hole just next to her head, and realised how close they'd been to killing her. He went berserk, jumping off the platform and into the fray. To him, the Centran War was only weeks ago, and his skills remained unchanged. The bodies piled up around him, and he cut through everyone in his path to the leader, answering the question of _why are you doing this_ with a blade through the ribs.

He saw Melissa/Ellone being led away, and she seemed uncomfortable. Was she being taken hostage?

_That wasn't it, Marcus._ Ellone gave a mental cringe at the memory. _I felt bad at leaving you behind because I didn't know you, even though you helped me._

Then someone confronted him, an unarmed fighter, and he could have been an ally and helping Melissa/Ellone, but he couldn't be sure, and he might be an enemy and _he couldn't let her be hurt no matter the cost…_

So he attacked, and a sniper almost killed him. He disabled both his opponents and was about to kill the unarmed one when she appeared again, and screamed at him to stop. He tried to understand, but he was so confused and she kept shouting so he must be fighting someone she didn't want hurt so he'd made a big mistake and _why didn't she recognise him_?

Then he felt himself passing out, and was relieved.

* * *

He woke up in what looked like a hospital. He could think clearly now, and realised that although Melissa had died, her family must have survived. This woman must have been her descendant. She had guardians, which was good, but he'd already tried to kill two of them, which was bad. She couldn't trust him now, not that she would have anyway.

When he overheard a doctor talking about tests, he knocked him out and escaped. The power of her bloodline was not that dangerous, but his powers had to die with him.

Ellone could remember the rest of his memories, either from being a witness or from the others telling her what happened. Some were harsher than others. Rinoa trying to kill him, but he never hated her, and Quistis and Selphie trying to help and comfort him, but he never trusted them.

Then the memories ended, and she was alone in the darkness. Then the feelings started again but without the visions, years of pain and suffering condensed into seconds. Waves of agony crashed into her, over and over again. The memories shrieked at her in many different voices, and underneath it all was a child screaming in hate, yelling how he _rescued them_ and _saved them_ and _helped them when nobody else would_ so _it wasn't fair_ that _THERE WAS NEVER ANYONE THERE FOR HIM _and nobody could tell him_ WHY WHY WHY_

Ellone felt her mind under siege. This was what Melissa must have felt when she'd used her power on Marcus, but now the memories were so much stronger, the torture and despair of his existence so much more powerful, that she couldn't get away.

But she held on. She knew Marcus wasn't like this. In only the very short time she'd known him, she'd seen someone else. Someone who didn't want to hate, someone who could see what life was worth. She hadn't seen that in his memories, but it had to be there, because he was that person.

Then she remembered. Marcus told her that her power would unlock other people's memories, but only through their viewpoint. Marcus believed he was a monster, a demon so condemned that redemption was impossible.

But that didn't mean he was. Ellone didn't believe he was. And belief was a source of her power.

_This isn't who he is._ Ellone forced her thoughts into focus. _It's what he thinks he is, nothing more. And I know he's wrong. Show me the rest._

His memories resisted, but Marcus had only been modified physically. Ellone's power worked on the mental plane, and mentally, Marcus was no stronger than anyone else.

_Show me!_

And then she saw the GEC base, as Marcus approached a little girl who looked like her. And they talked, and Marcus demonstrated his strength by jumping and bouncing off the walls, and kicking through a shelf while doing a handstand with one arm behind his back. And the girl laughed, and prodded his forehead and said _you're funny, Hawk_.

* * *

Then Marcus was dressed in his Terminator uniform, sword and gun ready, and a man, a woman, and a little girl huddled in the corner.

"Why are you going to kill us?" The woman begged. "We haven't done anything! Please, why?"

"Don't bother." The man said. "He won't tell us. Their kind never does. They kill us just because they can."

The little girl just wailed.

Marcus thought. The man seemed to have a point. These were not enemies, had no strength or abilities to cause harm to anyone but themselves. The Empire had ordered their deaths, but with no reason. Just like a week ago, with the woman who had been raped, this was death without reason.

So why do it?

"Leave." Marcus finally decided. "Get as far away as you can, and lie to everyone you meet about who you are. And never draw the attention of the Empire, or any pureblood. That way you will live."

He lowered his weapons. He didn't need them anyway, as he was easily able to kill all three with his bare hands. He waited, but none of them moved a muscle.

"Didn't you hear me? Leave!"

"We know it's a trick." The man shook his head. "You'll shoot us all in the back."

"What difference would that make to you?" Marcus demanded. "Being shot from the front is no better, and if this is a trick, you will be just as dead whatever you do. You have nothing to lose."

"He's right." The woman said.

The man finally nodded, and the family got up. The woman told the little girl to go outside and wait. Her parents flinched as she neared the doorway, waiting for a shot.

Marcus kept his hand away from the gun. His other hand was close to his sword, but that was in case another Terminator came checking on him.

The woman went next, casting nervous glances at Marcus, but starting to believe.

The man went last, but he stopped at the doorway. "Why?"

"I have no reason to kill you."

"That's never stopped a Centran before." He said. "Everyone knows that. And you're a Centran."

"Am I?" Said Marcus. He'd never felt like he was a Centran. He'd didn't feel like he was a GEC, either.

"What else could you be?"

"The only one of my kind." He said. "Alone."

He said nothing more, and the family left. Marcus never spoke of this to anyone.

* * *

Then Marcus was in a tent, running through sword patterns after the first battle of the Centran War, when Nathan came in with some of the other survivors.

"Kensai?" Nathan spoke first. "That's your name, right?"

"Marcus Kensai." He said. "Or Brute, as a codename."

"Right." Nathan looked uncomfortable, as did everyone else. "This morning, I didn't trust you. I hated your guts. I hoped the Centrans would cut you open first, so I could have a good laugh."

"Think what you like." Marcus sheathed his sword. "You fought well, killed many Centrans. That is all I care about."

"That's what I thought." Nathan scowled. "But it's not what I think, not any more. My dad always said even the best of men make mistakes, but only the best of men make up for them afterwards." He shrugged. "A lot of us died out there, but if you hadn't taken charge, we'd all be dead. And if we'd followed your plan from the start, maybe most of us would have lived."

"It was Psion's plan. Not mine."

"Well, if you trust Psion, that's good enough for us to follow. That's what I want to say. I still hate Centrans, but I've got no trouble believing they can be just as sick to their own kind as they are to us, and I know you want revenge as much as any of us. Those stuck up bastards who are supposed to be leading us would have got us all killed, but you saved our lives."

Nathan knelt on one knee, as did all the rebels behind him. "So from now on, we'll follow you." All the rebels saluted with their blades. "If you say a battle can be won, we'll believe it. You lead us into battle, and not one of us will turn aside until it's won. None of us believed that anyone could win this war, but then we saw you fight. If anyone can pick a fight with the Empire and win, it's you. And we'll keep fighting, until the Empire falls, or death."

"Until the Empire falls, or death." The rebels spoke as one.

"Until the Empire falls, or death." Marcus repeated, unsure of what he was feeling.

More memories followed, many brief moments where Marcus had stopped taking the easy way out and found another way, or refused an order, or held back because he knew something was wrong.

_That's it._ Ellone thought. _That's as much of who you are as everything else._

And the memories were not just the product of an insane and tortured mind, but also from the mind of a man who had terrible things done to him. A man who'd turned his back on power and acceptance in the society he was born to, choosing to create a world that would always distrust and hate him, just so nobody else would ever have to be like him.

And such a mind couldn't hold her captive any longer. As the memories ended, she drew away from Marcus, and faded into the light.

**Now we've seen his memories, but we still don't know everything about Marcus – including why he's electus, which he doesn't know himself. And why did he feel a connection to the name Kensai? Coincidence, or something more? Tune in for Chapter 15, when Squall becomes suspicious that a GEC could be the Puppet Master (Think about how their skills match up, and you should figure it out – but that doesn't mean he's right), decisions have to be made about Marcus's future, and Ellone will tell Marcus what is ****His Greatest Sin****…**


	15. His Greatest Sin

_Miss me? Okay, seriously, I had a few things up, so apologies for the wait. (At least I finally got my Character Profile done - if there's anything anyone wants to see or ask about, feel free.) There's also a new project (fiction rather than fanfiction) I'm working on, but more about that later. The subject for this chapter refers isn't an simple one, and some of you will probably disagree on what Ellone thinks is his greatest sin. I'm not completely convinced either, but she has a point - sometimes the worst isn't what you do, it's what you fail to do._

_For music with this chapter, I think Hand of Sorrow by Within Temptation. If you think of it from Cecile's perspective, it means quite a bit, as it was her that saved him - by showing him that he could choose his own path, that he didn't have to follow Centra._

**Arkv **_- _I have a novel of sorts, but it can't go on this site since it's an original. When the first few chapters gets posted, I'll let you know where. Good to know you're out of hospital - I've never thought those places were much good, personally. Only been in one once, and did they fix anything that was wrong with me? Did they hell. Waste of my bloody time…

**Sour Sob **- Come in and join the club! Lots more of my writing to come, as this story will have three parts, and there's still a few more chapters to go before the end of Part 1.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate:_

_I am the captain of my soul_

**Invictus, by William Ernest Henley**

Chapter 15: His Greatest Sin

"What have you done?" Just like before, the first thing Ellone heard was a question, but this time she could recognise the voice. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"She used her power on me." Said Marcus. "My mind was too unstable…"

"He's lying!" Zell was shouting, not surprisingly. "We couldn't stay awake when it happened to us! So how could he?"

"Her powers have multiple aspects and uses." Marcus again. "She is not as limited as you think."

"Back off, Zell!" Squall commanded. "Marcus, you know what's happening, so stop it."

"I can't." Said Marcus. "The target of her power cannot resist. If they could, the Chronos abilities would have been useless as a weapon, and Melissa would have been disposed of as a child."

"You call that a weapon?" Selphie screeched. "She's in a coma, and we can't wake her up!"

"Her powers allow her to read intense memories from any human or humanlike mind. But to do so, she must link their mind to hers."

"And you resisted the link?" Squall's voice.

"No." The response came from Marcus. "There is no way to resist the link. But the state of the link reflects the mind of the target."

Silence.

"My mind… has always been unstable. Corrupted. Highly self-destructive in nature. No sane mind can link to me and remain undamaged."

"Then why the hell did you make her do it, you sick son of a…" On hearing Zell shouting, Ellone forced her scattered thoughts to the surface, fighting the rising sense of déjà vu. Marcus had already taken the blame for this once before, and that was once too many. "Stop!"

Ellone opened her eyes, to find everyone was staring at her in amazement. "It wasn't his fault, okay? It was an accident. When he realised what I was doing, he tried to warn me, but it was too late." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "But I'm fine, so you can all calm down. And stop overreacting!" Everyone always being so protective was getting annoying. Just for once, she'd like someone to think she could do things herself.

She noticed Marcus was looking more shocked than everyone else, an unusual expression on his cold Centran features. "And what's up with you?"

Marcus blinked, then rushed over. In no time at all, he was close enough to her for their faces to almost touch, his midnight eyes staring into her own.

_I'm not afraid of you, Marcus. _Ellone stared back. _I'm not like her._

"Impossible." Marcus said finally. "You can't be…"

"Can't be what?" Squall loomed up on one side, as close to Marcus as possible without actually touching. Zell was doing the same on the other side, and both of them more than ready to kill

Of course, Marcus didn't care. He never did.

"You endured." The Centran whispered. "You are sane. Unharmed." He blinked, still looking confused. "You held firm. How could anyone be that strong? How could you resist?"

"You did." Said Ellone, not understanding.

"No." Marcus spoke with a chilling finality. "I did not. They broke me. I tried to resist, but I failed. I got my revenge in time, but they broke me first." He backed away, but still watched her. "And I had time to recover, then resist. You took everything they used against me, and everything I did back." He turned away at this point. "And yet you remain whole. I was trained to endure suffering, but they broke me. Melissa was trained to endure her vision, but a fragment of my memories, even as a child, overwhelmed her completely. You have no training, almost no knowledge of your powers, but you were stronger than her. Stronger than me. Strong enough to turn away – a strength Centra believed impossible. How?"

"I'm not Melissa." Said Ellone.

"No." Said Marcus. "You are not."

Squall coughed. "Elle, we need to ask you some questions."

Rinoa groaned. "Remember our little talk about tact, Squally?"

"Remember not calling me Squally in public?" Squall hissed.

Marcus ignored them, and looked to Ellone. "Is it your wish?"

Ellone looked from Marcus to Squall. She knew Squall was right, that they needed to know exactly who Marcus was, and she knew she was the only one who could tell them, but…

All Marcus had ever been, was used. Used by the Centran Empire, used by the GECs, used by the rebels. Even used by himself, and that was the cruellest of all. And that had to stop. Now.

"Melissa was wrong." She said. "Centra decided what you were, not who. And Nathan was right. In a fight against the Empire, you were the only one who could win."

"You are probably correct." Said Marcus. "But that does not change my nature."

"It doesn't need to." Ellone shook her head. "It never did. There's one thing you did that could never be justified, but it's not what you think."

"Only one?"

"Yes. Just one. But right now, I need to speak with Squall."

"Of course." Marcus nodded, and left the room. "I will await your decision."

Ellone wondered why he didn't ask questions, then she remembered his training as a little boy. He was given orders, never reasons. And every time he questioned…

Beaten, bloodied and battered and almost unconscious, but always short of it, just so he could feel it. Waiting for him to recover, then beating him again, to make him remember what they kept telling him. That Centrans don't question. Centrans obey.

_They broke me._

Everyone crowded around Ellone. "Well?" Asked Squall, and Rinoa slapped him.

Ellone watched them all. Selphie, Rinoa and Quistis were the most sympathetic, although Quistis was also slightly sceptical. Kiros and Ward were neutral, not trusting or hating, faces expressionless and betraying nothing. Laguna and Irvine were both curious, but still calm and casual, figuring that since the Centrans would have exterminated the rest of the human race, all Marcus had done was beat them to the punch, so where was the problem? And finally, there was Squall, Zell and Seifer. Squall was still rational and could be reasoned with, while Zell and Seifer just hated, but all three had the same thought on their minds. _He can't be trusted. Not after what he did._

So many viewpoints, Ellone knew. And all of them wrong.

"Before I tell you anything about Marcus, there's one thing you need to know. All his life, he's been hated, tortured, and suffered more than anyone else. And all that time, the one who hated him the most, who made him suffer the most, and who twisted the knife more than anyone else, has always been himself."

She gave that a chance to sink in, then she continued. "The first thing he remembers is a man hitting him, for not choosing his last name fast enough. And when he made a choice…"

* * *

After Ellone had finished, the room fell silent.

"So General Nathan must have taken command of the Blades after Marcus was presumed dead." Quistis nodded. "I always knew Nathan wasn't what history thought he was."

"But General Nathan was a hero!" Selphie protested. "Everyone said so. Even Marcus!"

"Of course he was a hero." Said Quistis. "One of the few genuinely good people to come out of the Centran Wars. But there were always a few details that were never convincing. For starters, according to the official version of events, Nathan had killed only a few pureblood Centrans before the rebels declared war. But after only a few battles, he formed the Blades, which quickly became the elite of the rebel infantry, and the most dangerous and highly trained troops of the entire war! Without any military training or experience? I always knew there had to be someone else behind it, but the only way anyone could be so completely removed from all the historical records was if none of the rebels wanted them there. Which I thought was impossible, as whatever his nationality, someone would have supported him." She shook her head. "I never thought of a Centran turning against his own kind."

"And for the rebel leaders to seize power so completely after the war" Squall had shown little reaction to being told about Marcus and his history. "The world had to believe their anti-Centran paranoia. Their dictatorship was already unstable, and if enough people learnt that Marcus, or any of the GECs, had been such an essential part of the rebel victory, then the rebels could have been swept from power entirely."

"But Nathan knew about Marcus!" Selphie protested. "He was a hero! He had enough support to change things! Why didn't he do anything?"

"He did." Kiros spoke up. "He protected Esthar. The starting city-nation suffered relatively few atrocities, compared to the rest of the world. Even before there was anything approaching an Estharian army, countless refugees flooded into the city for protection. The rest of the rebels must have been afraid of provoking Nathan too far, in case he used his status and popular support to convince the rest of the world of what really happened."

"But Nathan didn't stop what they were doing in the rest of the world." Said Rinoa. "So that meant…"

"He wasn't sure he could stop them." Quistis finished. "And if he tried and failed, all the people of Esthar would have become victims of the rebel holocaust. If they'd been forced into a confrontation, then either the rebel dictators would have lost their power to rule the world, or Nathan would have lost the power to protect the refugees from the madness that had infected everyone else. Both sides had too much to lose, and neither wanted to take the risk, even to either conquer the world or save it, unless there was no other choice."

"So it was a standoff." Said Squall. "Nathan held Esthar as a safe haven, and the rebel leaders held the rest of the world. The ex-rebels wrote world history to suit themselves, and Nathan built up the city-state of Esthar, with its people looking to the future, instead of dwelling on the past."

"But after the rebel stranglehold on power faded, Nathan could have told the truth. He could have said… something." Said Rinoa.

"Why?" Squall shrugged. "Marcus was dead and the Centrans were extinct, as far as he knew. Maybe he thought the past should stay buried with them."

"And he could have been trying to avoid drawing attention to someone." Quistis pointed out. "Melissa's son was half Centran, remember. Nathan knew about him, and Gregor would have needed somewhere to hide his remaining family. Esthar would have been the only place that was safe."

"Yeah, yeah." Seifer yawned. "History, that's all in the past. So when are we shoving Marcus back into stasis?"

"We're not." Said Squall. "And that's final."

"So what are we doing?" Said Quistis. "We can't just leave him here, not with the bioweapons…"

"I know." Squall replied. "Keeping him secure in Esthar seems the only option. We can't let him loose in public, in case people start asking questions."

"Just lock him away?" Rinoa wasn't pleased. "Can't we find him a job or something?"

"Bad idea." Squall shook his head. "Even if he joined the army or a security force, there'd be too many problems. To start with, he'd need a medical, which we'd have to cover up, for obvious reasons. And then he'd be working with other people, who'd get suspicious of his abilities. Then they'd probably think he was on battle drugs, and start to investigate, and then…" He shrugged. "It'd all fall apart. Marcus can't act human, so he can't be left on his own. That's all there is."

"But…" Rinoa started, but Quistis shook her head, before pressing a finger to her own lips. Then she pointed at herself, then Rinoa, then Ellone, Selphie and Irvine, then a door. The message was simple. _Don't say anything. We five need to talk in private._

"Now back to work." Squall was unaware of what just happened. "We need to salvage as much as possible from the base, data as well as artefacts, but no weaponry. So get started."

A few minutes later, Quistis was in an empty room with the people Rinoa had gathered together.

"So why are we here?" Irvine spun his hat on a finger.

"Yeah!" Selphie was annoyed. "There's gadgets all over this place, and I want my share!"

"In a minute." Quistis sighed. "We need to talk about Marcus. Leaving him locked up in Esthar is a bad idea, and it's only avoiding the problem, not fixing it. There is a better solution."

"Letting him join Seed at Balamb Garden, right?" Rinoa cut in.

"Exactly." Said Quistis. "He'd probably have to join at Cadet level, since although his fighting abilities are first class, as we don't have any idea about his other skills. But he should progress quickly, and there are other non-field duties we can assign to him more or less immediately."

"You'd do this for him?" Ellone asked.

"It's not being charitable." Quistis pointed out. "Seed has always taken in high-fliers and overachievers, after all. Marcus is an exceptionally talented individual, and he'd be very useful to us. But we'd be helping him as well. Since everyone knows that Seed uses Guardian Forces to boost our abilities beyond normal human levels, he'd look a lot less suspicious as one of us. And if Marcus is ever going to become a part of human society, he'll need to adjust slowly. He'll relate to the work we do, although it wouldn't be as intense or as dangerous as what he's used to."

"And he has people who know him, and can cover for him." Said Rinoa. "It's best for everyone that way."

"You're right." Ellone nodded. "But the problem is…"

"Squall." Selphie finished. "No way he'll agree to this. Or Zell. Or Seifer."

"Forget about the last two." Said Irvine. "Squall never gives a damn about what Seifer thinks, and he'd never ask Zell for advice. It's Squall you'll have to convince, and he's a stubborn asshole."

"Exactly." Rinoa nodded.

"I have a few ideas about that." Said Quistis. "And if I can't persuade him normally, I have one final argument he won't have an answer for. But before that, I have to make sure of Marcus myself. There's still a few questions I need to ask."

"Like what?" Irvine shrugged. "We know his past, don't we?"

"But not his present." Quistis pointed out. "It's what he's thinking now that concerns me. And Elle, I'll need your help."

"My help?" Ellone looked surprised. "What for?"

"I want the truth. For that, you need to be there."

"Marcus isn't a liar." She protested.

"I know." Replied Quistis. "But he is secretive. He can evade questions, or refuse to talk. But if you ask, he's compelled to answer. He can't refuse you. You've noticed, right?"

Ellone hesitated, but finally nodded. "Yes. But I don't know why."

"Neither do I. Maybe it's because he wants to keep everything in this world at a distance. He doesn't know anyone or anything else, and he doesn't want to. But you connect his past to this present, so he's already connected to you, and he can't shut you out."

* * *

"That's the generator?" Squall couldn't believe it.

"Yep!" Zell slapped a hand on one of the turbines. "Power for the whole base, right here! Great tech, right? Can't use it for Garden, but it'd be great for Balamb!"

Squall nodded, but still couldn't believe it. He'd expected the power to run the base to be generated by something dangerous, harmful. The Centrans only cared about themselves, so they'd let the land become a desert as long as the base kept running.

But the truth was different. He was staring at the generators, positioned over masses of deep vents that descended for miles into the earth. The heat from the core of the planet created a constant flow of steam from the vents, which drove the turbines to produce electricity.

Geothermal energy; an endless source of clean, renewable electricity, the most environmentally friendly power source in the world. And it was in a Centran military base.

"They didn't choose geothermal energy because it was eco-friendly." Squall said to himself. "There must have been another reason."

"_That is correct."_ The AI's synthesised voice echoed from the walls. _"The design and construction of this base was influenced purely by military concerns."_

"Which means…" Squall could have asked the AI, but wanted to work this out for himself. "This base had to be kept hidden. Solar panels, wind turbines or tidal generators would be too obvious, as well as far too easily destroyed. As for non-renewable power, any fuel deliveries could have revealed its location, as well as being hijacked or destroyed by attacking forces. And if the fuel itself was dangerous, like petrol or uranium, then supplies could be sabotaged."

"_Correct."_ Said the AI. _"The only ways to disrupt the flow of geothermal energy are to destroy the generators, which are protected inside the base, or to excavate underneath the base, which is clearly impractical."_

"Smart." After all his failed attempts to rebuild Trabia Garden, this was his chance. The problem was funding - the administrative board at Garden barely agreed to pay his expenses, let alone a major building project, and he'd rather sell his own organs than ask Laguna for help. But once Garden could demonstrate a working geothermal power generator, engineering firms would be fighting each other to build Trabia Garden for free, in return for the patented rights to sell the technology on the open market.

Of course, to do that, Garden would need the patent in the first place. And a convincing story to explain how, after some of the finest scientific minds on the planet had spent over a decade trying to harness a system for clean, renewable energy, a bunch of mercenaries had beaten them to it. By accident. Without any research funding.

Hmmm. Tricky. Maybe Quistis could help.

Come to think of it, where was she, anyway?

* * *

"Marcus?"

"Yes?" The Centran didn't look round, absorbed in watching the wall of coloured lights, hitting each panel as it lit up either blue or red.

"I have some questions for you." Quistis noticed that Marcus was punching when the light was red, and stabbing with his fingertips when the light was blue. The lights seemed to be speeding up, but Marcus wasn't missing any.

"Ask." Marcus didn't stop hitting the lights.

"I need your full attention. This could decide your future."

Marcus turned around. "I have a future?" He didn't sound interested. "Very well."

"You're not interested in your future?" Quistis asked.

"The future is not yet born. The past is dead. Focus only on the present, or it will die as well, and you with it."

"Who taught you that?" Quistis was curious. It had to be someone Marcus respected, but as philosophies went, it was pretty cold.

"Drachen."

"Your instructor." Said Quistis, remembering Ellone's description. "Do you regret killing him?"

"Of course not." Marcus seemed confused by the question. "He stood with the Empire. He could never have been anything but my enemy."

"But you respected him." This was what she didn't understand. "Why? He treated you like a slave, didn't he?"

"Who didn't?" Said Marcus. "But he understood me. The rebellion did not even try."

"Maybe not." Quistis paused. "But now for my questions. Each time I give you a name, I want you to tell me what you really think about that person. It doesn't matter if you hate them, but be honest. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. First… Squall Leonheart."

"Warrior. Exceptionally skilled with a blade, talent and training combined. Focused. Determined. Will not kill without reason."

"That's fine." Quistis nodded. His answer was pretty much as she'd expected, but that wasn't one of the important ones, unlike the next one. "Rinoa Heartilly."

"A Sorceress. Powerful magic…"

"Hold it." Quistis cut in. "You know she's a Sorceress. But what does that mean to you?"

"It means her magic is far more powerful than any human. Or any GEC."

"And?"

"And?" Marcus didn't seem to understand. "And nothing. That is all being a Sorceress means."

There was a sound outside the door. "Riona." Quistis sighed. "Come out. I know you're there."

Rinoa emerged from the doorway, looking defiant. "But you were talking about me behind my back!"

"That's the point!" Quistis snapped. "I have to know what his intentions are!"

"Intentions are for the future." Said Marcus. "I only focus on the now. I only act in the present."

"Never mind that." Rinoa cut in. "What were you saying about Sorceresses? You don't think they're evil?"

"I don't know. The Empire only taught me how to kill Sorceresses, and I know little else about them. And you were my ally before."

"Well, in our world, almost everyone hates Sorceresses. If they knew about me, they'd think I was about to start killing everyone! That's why even the Centran Empire wanted to exterminate them, right?"

"Of course not." Marcus looked confused. "The Empire would have let your kind kill as they wanted to, as long as they served the Empire. Evil was allowed, encouraged. Uncontrolled power was not."

"They couldn't control a Sorceress?"

"A Sorceress might be controlled, a Centran Sorceress might serve the Empire faithfully. But a slave race Sorceress might be next, fighting the Empire with all her power. The Sorceress gift could be passed to any potential, of any race. It was too unpredictable, beyond all control. It was a power that did not belong to the Empire, so they had to destroy it."

"But you said the genes for Sorceress potential were removed from the Centran race." Quistis posed a question. "So why didn't they remove them from all the other races?"

"They would have eventually, but nobody knew what would happen if a Sorceress died and there were no living potentials to receive the gift. Even Psion could not be certain. They planned to seal the Sorceress in cryostasis permanently…"

"They weren't the first." Rinoa muttered.

"Umm… Actually, they were the first." Ellone pointed out. "This was eighty years ago, while Sorceress Adel was put in stasis a couple of decades ago, and you were…" She stopped, probably due to the murderous look in Rinoa's eyes. "Sorry."

"But Project Ouroborous became more important. Once it began, the Emperor cared for nothing else."

"Going back to the reason we're here…" Quistis remarked. "Another name. Selphie Tilmitt."

"Unpredictable. Emotional, but a highly skilled pilot. Considerable magic talent. Looks weak in battle, but isn't. And that makes her dangerous. Correct?"

"Correct." Quistis nodded, slightly impressed. Being short and slender, Selphie was usually seen as the weakling when it came to a fight. Many enemies made that mistake, and it was always their last. "Seifer Almasy."

"Strong, powerful, skilled." Marcus said. "But arrogant, reckless, and driven by ego. Killing for show, to impress others, when he should just kill. Rebellious and unreliable with allies."

"Exactly right." Quistis muttered. "Irvine Kinneas."

"Excellent sniper. Behaves strangely, but focused in battle. Not as good as Midnight, not even close, but better than any other."

"Midnight? The GEC assassin?" Quistis had always held Irvine in contempt, as every female in Garden should - those with a brain, anyway - but although she found fault with everything else, even she couldn't find anything at fault with his marksmanship. "How good was she?"

"There was a Centran Commander." Said Marcus, after thinking about it. "Intelligent, powerful, almost paranoid. Midnight was sent to kill him. He was well protected, so she had to remain outside normal sniper range. Just before dawn, she took aim at the spot he would be if he broke cover, and waited. Five hours later, she saw the top of his skull, just for a second."

"And?"

"She killed him. Instantly. Midnight never missed. Not once."

"Wow." Rinoa shivered.

"So how did Midnight die?" Quistis asked.

"With everyone else." Marcus clenched his fists, then relaxed. "In the Vault."

"Another name." Quistis continued. "Zell Dincht."

"Careless. Impulsive. Always acts, never thinks. Cannot control himself. Wasting his talents."

"Hmm." Quistis knew Zell couldn't stand Marcus, but hadn't realised it went both ways. "And you say that because…"

"When we fought, he should have won. Easily. We were both unarmed - his field, not mine. His skills were greater, his talent and experience far better than mine. His victory should have been certain, and instead, I would have killed him."

"Understood." Quistis had told Zell as much during the debriefing. What made it worse was that Zell hadn't any reason to rush things. Seifer would have arrived with reinforcements in minutes, so as long as Zell kept Marcus from escaping, the Centran was caught anyway.

Instead, Zell had been rash, impulsive, and if not for Ellone, would be dead. And Marcus would have been guilty of murder, and executed. Two lives destroyed, just for a stupid mistake.

It had been close. Too close.

"Okay. That…"

"What about Quistis Trepe?" Rinoa cut in. Quistis glared at her. Rinoa innocently smiled back, an expression that wouldn't have fooled anyone that knew her.

"Competent, patient, focused. Skilled in weapons, magic, and strategy. Excellent in the field. No clear weaknesses."

"But I…" Quistis asked before she could stop herself. "I tried to blow your brains out, remember?"

"Yes, I know." Marcus nodded. "Your strategy was flawless."

"Flawle…" She was shocked. "You approve of me trying to kill you?"

"Of course." Marcus seemed surprised. "You saw my power, my skills in combat. You knew if you attacked me in person, you would fail. So you found a way to kill me that would work, and used it before I had a chance to hurt Ellone."

"But you weren't going to hurt Ellone." Said Quistis. "You'd never do that."

"True. But you could not know that at the time. You only knew I was a ruthless killer. Would you risk her life, just to avoid killing someone like that?" He didn't wait for her answer. "No. You would not, as I would not. You would be worthless if you did. And you only failed to kill me through chance. You made no mistakes. How could I not approve?"

Quistis was speechless. Marcus was right, of course. She'd been told as much during the debriefing. At the time, she'd had to make a spilt second decision, and the Centran had to be stopped. Capturing him unharmed was far too risky and almost certain to fail, so trying to kill him had been the only sensible choice. She knew that.

But Marcus wasn't supposed to agree with her. But he did, and that, more than anything else, was what made him dangerous. He only cared about his objective, never his life. He'd jump off a cliff after his target, just to make sure of killing them.

"Okay. That's all I needed to know." Quistis nodded. "Next is the hard part. Persuading Squall."

"How?" Ellone asked. "That won't be easy."

"Like I said, I have a few ideas about that."

* * *

Irvine was busy hunting through a storage corridor, clothing and accessories of all types and colours hanging on both sides. He pressed a button on the watch he'd just found, and a hologram image of watch hands on a 3D clock appeared above the dial. He smiled. The stuff in this place definitely had style. And it was his. Well, everyone else technically had an equal claim, but he'd found this stuff first, right?

Irvine picked up a pair of cufflinks, and watched them change colour where he touched them.

Temperature sensitive. Nice. He could use these.

He didn't bother thinking about what would happen to Marcus. The Centran was hell on wheels in a fight, and seemed an okay sort… well, better than Seifer, anyway, so joining Seed didn't seem a bad idea. But Irvine didn't bother supporting either side, not that it mattered if he did. Squall wasn't about to ask him for advice.

There was a pair of gold arm bracelets on a shelf. Irvine examined one, noticing a strange ridge on the outside edge, but no other markings. He shrugged, and pressed it.

Part of the band popped open, revealing something inside. He took a closer look.

He heard a barely audible click, and instinctively jerked his head to one side. Something shot past his ear, then smashed into a wall panel, trailing a cord behind it.

Ignoring his brush with death, Irvine looked at the cord, leading to a grappling hook embedded into the wall. He pulled on the cord, but it wouldn't budge either way, so he tapped the bracelet, trying to find a switch.

The gold band fastened tight around his forearm, and the cord zipped back in, smacking him against the wall.

Lots more tapping, and bruises, and he finally worked out how to use them. The windup and release had a variety of speeds, as well as a manual release. Full climbing gear, single shot dart thrower, and strangulation cord, all in a little bracelet. When it came to packing things in tight, the Centrans were way ahead of the game.

It still looked girly, though. But even if he didn't use it, it could still cheer Selphie up when she was on a downer.

Like when Trabia had been destroyed. Most of Selphie's friends killed by a missile attack, (and from his own country, Galbadia, which didn't exactly make him popular), and then everyone got mad at him for his usual round of jokes, wisecracks and chat-up lines when the situation was so bad.

But none of them got it. It was **because **the situation was so bad that he had to fool around. If he'd started being serious, everyone would have been even more depressed than they were already. But as long as he just kept going, the same old Irvine, acting cool and trying to impress Selphie with his basketball skills, things didn't seem quite so bad.

It wasn't enough to cheer Selphie that time, though. Nothing worked, until someone (Probably Rinoa - Squall and Quistis were too serious, and Zell too dumb) put up a 'Guess the Most Shallow' competition on the noticeboards. There were two photos to choose from; his portrait (quite flattering, if he did say so himself), and a wet pavement.

He would have got Rinoa back for that, but Selphie burst out laughing when she saw it. And it had been the first time she'd laughed for what seemed like far too long, so it was fine. Of course, she'd picked his photo as the winner, and demanded to know what her prize was, so he'd told her.

Damn, that had been one hard slap. Even from her.

Of course, everyone had laughed about it afterwards. They all said he was wasting his time, that she'd never fall for him. But when it came to women, Irvine knew everything there was to know. He'd noticed Selphie starting to blush just before she hit him, which was always a good sign. And best of all, she'd kept his photo.

After that, no problem, thanks to Ultimecia. Okay, so being grateful to the Sorceress who tried to become a god by killing everyone in existence might seem a little weird to most people, but she wasn't all bad. After all, when it came to getting a girl to lose her inhibitions, there was nothing better than the imminent end of the world, right?

* * *

"So, have you thought about it?" Asked Ellone, after the others had left.

"What I did that could never be justified?" Replied Marcus. "It is either the destruction of Centra City, which killed millions but could never happen again, or the Bloodrage, killing one for now, but a danger for as long as I exist."

"Both wrong." Ellone shook her head. "The Bloodrage was an accident. You didn't know what you were doing, and you were desperate. If you hadn't used it, Typhon would have killed you, and the Empire would have won the war. You did the right thing." She didn't mention that she hadn't told Squall and the others anything about the Bloodrage. "And as for Centra City… I can't approve of what you did, but I don't think I have the right to judge you. I don't know if anyone does. I know you still feel guilty, but…" She cleared her throat. "Do you think you did the right thing?"

"No. It was not the right thing to do." Said Marcus. "But it was the only thing to do. The Lunar Cry, or Ouroborous. One of them had to happen. I made the choice." His stare looked defiant. "And I would choose the same again."

"I hope you don't have to." Said Ellone. "That's not a choice anyone should ever have to make. But it's not the Lunar Cry, or the Bloodrage. Can you think of anything else?"

"But there isn't…" Marcus was confused. "The Base Commander? I killed him slowly, when I could have…"

"No. He made you suffer your entire life, so you wanted revenge. I don't like that, but I can understand it. I'm talking about something else, something callous and cruel. Something you had no reason to do, but you did it anyway. Your greatest sin. And worst of all, you don't even remember, do you?"

Marcus was silent, thinking. "I don't know." He said finally.

"It's about Caryn."

"Who?"

"You don't know her. You never even spoke to her. But what happened to her, and what almost happened, can't be forgiven." Ellone sighed. "Just before you saw my poster, you thought she was me. Remember now?"

"Her?" Marcus was confused. "I didn't hurt her. I never did anything to her."

"I know. But what about the men attacking her?"

"I was right to kill them." Said Marcus. "They deserved to die."

"Difficult to argue with that. They'd killed six girls already, and Caryn would have been their seventh victim if you weren't there."

"Then… How was I wrong?"

"Caryn would have been raped, then murdered. Her death would have been terrible, a horrific crime that nobody should ever have to endure. And you still don't see your greatest sin?"

"No."

"You knew what was going to happen. But if those three hadn't attacked you in that alley, you would have walked away and let them do it!"

Nobody spoke, the only sound the distant hum of computers.

"Well?" Ellone demanded. "Am I wrong?"

"I…."

"Am. I. Wrong?"

"No." Marcus finally stated. "You are right."

"So why would you let it happen? You knew they weren't a threat to you, and even if they had been, you wouldn't have cared. You were obsessed with finding Melissa, so it could have been your mental state…" She paused. "But it wasn't, was it?"

Ellone watched him, but Marcus didn't respond. He'd looked like this when she'd left the speech podium, leaving him standing there, soaked in blood and death, surrounded by slain enemies. But looking just like a child, confused and alone, even a little scared.

It was his vulnerable side, a part of him nobody else had ever suspected could exist. A side of him nobody else ever saw, not even those closest to him. Nobody but her.

_Why?_

"It's because she's human, isn't it? That's why you hate her. You hate the Centrans the most for what they did to you, but you hate other humans too, because they didn't do anything to help you when you needed it the most. Even though you helped them, all they did was leave you to suffer. And there's always been a part of you that wants to do the same to them."

Marcus turned to face her, her midnight eyes radiating the infinite darkness. "You saw that much?"

"More than that. I know that inside, you're screaming. Even after all this time." She paused. "I'm sorry, Marcus. You didn't deserve any of what happened to you, but… Remember what you said to me? That I had the strength to let go."

"Yes."

"I know it's not as easy for you, nowhere near, but… You have to let go of this, Marcus. You have to move on."

"I can't. I tried. It is not in my nature to stop fighting, even when I cannot win."

"But the world has changed. You can change. You've been given a second chance, don't you see? Things can be different this time."

"I'm no different. I've changed as far as I can. I will always be a weapon, but I changed the wielder. I will always be a warrior, but I changed the cause I fought for. That's all there is. I can be nothing more."

"Not even a Seed?" Ellone asked. "They're thinking of offering you a job, you know?"

"A job? Working for money?"

"Yes. If money isn't involved, that's usually a bad sign." She noticed Marcus looking blank. "You do know what money is, don't you?"

"Yes, I know about money." Marcus nodded. "But I've never had a use for it."

* * *

Rinoa entered the control room just after Quistis, to see Squall was studying a guys hologram image.

"There's been an important development, Squall." Started Quistis. "It seems…"

"Rejected." Squall's eyes never left the hologram.

"What?"

"Marcus is not joining Seed. Ever."

"What?" Rinoa exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"I'm not stupid, Rin. And it was obvious anyway." Squall shook his head. "Now are you finished? I've work to do."

"But…" Quistis began.

"Why not?" Rinoa cut in. "Why can't he join? Give me one good reason!"

"Why?" Squall exploded. "He's killed over thirty five million people. He started the bloodiest war in history without a second thought. He committed genocide, just because of a grudge. Okay, it was his own race that he wiped out, and you could say they pretty much deserved it, but how the hell are we supposed to trust someone like that?"

"She only asked you for one reason, Squall." Quistis pointed out.

"Whatever." Squall growled. "He's not coming anywhere near Balamb Garden. Esthar'll lock him up and throw away the key, and that's that. He's their problem now."

"Of course, your concerns are valid." Said Quistis. "But Marcus is still a very promising candidate. His close combat skills are top class, as he proved when fighting you at the hospital."

"I was winning."

"Of course." Quistis smiled like a shark. "But that was after he'd killed a small army of terrorists, been shot and stabbed enough times to kill any normal human being, and then taken a beating, including a Limit Break, from Zell. You were in peak condition, and he should have been dead already. And you still couldn't stop him getting away."

"His skills aren't in question." Squall scowled. "The rest of him is."

"Not necessarily." Said Quistis. "I'm not suggesting we trust him completely, or that we allow him access to confidential information. In fact, we don't need to. He's a blunt instrument, but a very capable one. If we end up in another Sorceress War, or something similar, his help could make the difference between victory, or death."

"He's not joining Seed." Said Squall. "And that's final."

"Of course. It's entirely your decision." Quistis turned, and winked at Rinoa. "But there's something else. What days of the week will you be taking classes?"

"Taking what?"

"Classes. You'll be an instructor when we get back, won't you?"

"Me?" Squall suddenly looking worried. "Why?"

"We've been putting it off for long enough." Quistis was still smiling. "Balamb Garden still needs a weaponry instructor. And there isn't anyone else who can do the job."

"There has to be somebody!"

"There isn't. After the Sorceress War, experienced trainers are thin on the ground, and nearly all are already with national government military, under long term contract. We can only offer short term, so we can't buy them off."

"Nearly all? Can't we hire someone who isn't?"

"Yes, Squall, we could." Quistis sighed. "But there are reasons they're not under long term contracts. None of the applicants we had were good enough. I tried sparring with one to test his skills, and he had to go to the infirmary with his hand slashed open."

"You injured him?" Rinoa couldn't believe it. "Why?"

"Oh, it wasn't me." Quistis explained. "We never actually sparred. He threw his dagger in the air before we started, and didn't quite catch it."

Squall sighed. "Couldn't we hire one of the better ones?"

"That was one of the better ones. At least he was sober." Quistis folded her arms. "It's very simple, Squall. Zell can handle the martial arts training, and Irvine, assuming we're desperate, can probably teach firearms, at least for a little while. But for armed close combat, you're the only suitable candidate. Unless you count Seifer, and I wouldn't."

Squall scowled.

"So, either you teach the classes, or find another candidate." Quistis smirked. "Do you know of anyone?"

"All right!" Squall slammed the console. "I'll talk with him. But no promises!"

"Of course." Said Quistis. "You're the boss."

"I doubt that." Squall muttered. He pressed a button, and the hologram turned left and right. "Ever seen him before?"

"No." Rinoa looked closely. The man seemed a few years older than her, but fairly normal looking, with a friendly smile but no distinguishing features, apart from looking Centran. "Who is he?"

"Ghost."

"The GEC computer genius?" Said Quistis. "The one who died in Centra City?"

"Disappeared in Centra City." Squall corrected. "Out of all the GECs, he's the only one whose death was never witnessed or verified. And like you said, he's a computer genius." He leaned back. "Quite a coincidence, too. Remember that hacker who tipped off the Adelists, and took the cage offline with a virus? The best hackers and tech specialists in the world all come from Esthar, but Estoc said that whoever this 'Puppet Master' is, he's more skilled than any of them. But he doesn't have a record, and he never leaves a trace."

Squall pointed at the hologram. "Just like a ghost…"

**And we have a suspect for the Puppet Master! But in the next chapter Marcus will take a different view, and with a different (but not very convincing) suspect… Sort of. Next chapter, there's a few last words to say in the Vault, an update on what's been happening on Esthar, and Marcus will face questions about his future, and take the first step towards ****A New Existence…**

14


	16. A New Existence

_**This was meant to come out a lot sooner – sorry. Marcus is almost ready to return to the world, but how can anyone trust him, when he can't even trust himself? And how can Squall plan an attack against the Puppet Master, when nobody can even prove he exists? Problems are piling up back in Esthar, and Seed are beginning to learn that with Centrans, nothing is ever quite the way it seems...**_

**Terry121 – **Well, I tried. Apologies for the wait, and I hope you like the latest chapter.

"_This man hated his father. Loved his mother fiercely. His mother was devoted to him, but his father used to beat him, demeaned him, disenherited him. Anyway, this friend grew to manhood and was still in his thirties when the mother died. The mother, who had nurtured and protected him, died. The man stood at her grave as they lowered the coffin, and tried to cry, but no tears came. The man's father lived to a very extended old age, and withered away and died when the son was in his fifties. At the father's funeral, much to the son's surprise, he could not control his tears. Wailed, sobbed, and was apparently inconsolable. Lost. The man had been driven his whole life by hatred of his father. When his mother died, that was a loss, but when the father died and hatred had lost its object, the man's life was empty — over." _**- Quotation from Conspiracy (2001)**

Chapter 16: A New Existence

"You know why you're here, Marcus?" Squall asked.

"A job." Said Marcus. "You want me to kill for you, correct?"

"No. I **might**" Emphasis on that word. "consider letting you **work**" That word too. "for us. Killing will be required at some point, but we're mercenaries, not assassins. And some jobs we never take, for any amount of money. But before I decide, I need to know a few things."

"Ask."

"You said one of your 'functions' was as a weapons trainer. So who taught you that, and who did you teach?"

"Everyone knew Drachen was the finest close combat instructor in the Empire. Most believed Typhon to be the better warrior, although I proved otherwise, but he had always lacked patience. Drachen knew that self-control was the most important control of all, and I learned from him how to teach others."

"And then you taught other Centrans?"

"Hardly. Being an instructor was only my secondary function, and I was placed into the Imperial Army as part of an elite Terminator killsquad. Training others only became part of my regular duties once the rebel army was formed."

"The Blades?"

"I personally selected and trained every member of the Blades, yes. I also trained others, many at the beginning of the war, less near the end, as others were capable of instructing by then, and I was more useful attacking the Empire."

"So they were the rebel elite, but how many died? What were the casualty rates?"

"Slightly less than the average for infantry."

"Only slightly?"

"The Blades always took the most dangerous missions, the most deadly assignments. Where they won with heavy casualties, other divisions would have been wiped out completely, without any chance of survival or success."

"Fair enough." Squall nodded. "And who would you say was your best student?"

"Nathan." Marcus didn't even have to think. "If he was not, he would not have been my second in command."

"Fine. What weapons can you teach?"

"Basic military types. From most skill to least, first swords, then knives, then staves or improvised, and finally unarmed. I can use some types of specialist weaponry, but have no particular talents in them. Of new weaponry like yours" Marcus pointed to the Lionheart gunblade, sheathed at Squalls side, as always. "I know nothing at all."

"That's another thing." Quistis interrupted. "You can't go calling things new just because you've never seen them before. Gunblades are pretty famous as weapons go, and the basic design is a few decades old. Never having used one is fine, but most civilians, and anyone with any military or Seed training, would know one by sight."

"You'll be suspicious anyway." Squall pointed out. "Nobody should recognise you as a Centran, but you look different. People will wonder where you're from."

"I thought it best to keep the cover story simple, and as close to the truth as possible." Said Quistis. "We'll say you were found abandoned as a baby, only a week or so old. No trace of your parents was ever found, and you were passed between several foster families. You rejected all forms of social contact, never really bonded with anyone, and left your adopted home as soon as you could. There's quite a few towns and villages that were wiped out completely by Sorceress Ultimecia, so if we say you came from one of those, there's nobody alive who can claim otherwise."

"But your sword is the problem." Said Squall. "Centran blades are incredibly valuable."

"I have dealt with thieves before." Said Marcus. "They will take it from my corpse, or not at all."

"That's not the point. The instant you're seen with that sword, everyone will be asking where it came from. And what are you going to tell them?"

Marcus was silent.

"Exactly." Squall finished. "If we say you found it somewhere, and every treasure hunter in the world will be swarming all over the location in less than a day. If we say you got it from somebody else, and that person, and everything about them, will be targeted a hundred times over. All in the hope of finding more swords. Whatever story we come up with, it won't survive that much exposure."

"What if Marcus always had the sword?" Rinoa interrupted. "Lying next to him when he was found as a baby, say?"

"Actually, that would work." Quistis nodded. "That would direct the searches towards his parents, and since they'll never be found, we don't have to worry."

"Whatever." Squall agreed reluctantly, since he'd been hoping for an excuse to reject Marcus. "Balamb Garden needs a close combat instructor, and at the moment, you're the only worthwhile candidate there is. You get a single room at Garden, and the basic instructor salary. All living amenities are provided at Garden itself, so you'll spend as little time in Balamb itself as possible, and have almost no contact with civilians."

"Isn't that a little harsh, Squall?" Rinoa cut in.

"It's meant to be harsh, and more than a little." Squall growled. "You'll have instructor duties, but you'll take other classes as a student. And if the truth gets out, or if there's trouble because of you, you're out. And once you're out, you're not coming back."

"I understand."

"One more thing." Squall finished. "You get no special privileges. You start as a Seed Cadet, like everyone else the first time they come to Garden. Whatever you've been in the past, doesn't count with us. You have to prove yourself as a Seed, like everyone else. Clear?"

"Of course." Marcus hadn't changed from his blank expression the whole time. "Failure is weakness, and weakness cannot be tolerated."

"Well, we're not that bad…" Rinoa started.

Squall sighed. He usually didn't have trouble being unpleasant to people (Rinoa had always been the exception) but he couldn't help feeling that trying to unsettle Marcus was like trying to wrestle with a sponge.

Still, he supposed it wouldn't be so bad to have an instructor who didn't keep wanting more money, less hours, and more holidays. Or who didn't keep gossiping about him and Rin. It could be worse. "Whatever. We'll deal with the paperwork when we get back, including forging a passport, driving licence and birth certificate, but from now on, you're a cadet Seed at Balamb Garden."

"One more thing." Said Quistis. "Why?"

"Why?" Squall couldn't believe it. "You're the one who…"

"Not you." Quistis pointed at Marcus. "Him. Why are you joining Seed? It's not for training, or money. If you wanted to be a mercenary, you could easily work alone. You're a loner, so why do you want to work with others, with all the restrictions that entails?"

"I don't want to." Said Marcus. "I don't want anything. Not from you, or anyone else."

"So why are you doing this?"

"What else is there to do?" Marcus tilted his head in the Centran shrug. "I have nothing. I was taught that to want, or to need, is a weakness that can be exploited. As long as I have food, and a place to sleep, what else is there?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And you have not restricted me. I never wanted any contact with civilians. Their greedy and selfish lives are meaningless to me."

"What!" Rinoa let loose. "Lives aren't meaningless! You can't just call people greedy and selfish!"

"In the rebellion, everyone spoke of the future." Said Marcus. "A future free of Centran oppression, where they would build a better world. A world where the powerful would not condemn innocents to death to satisfy their greed, a world where nobody was forced to live in poverty and shame because it was convenient for others. I did not believe them." He looked at Rinoa. "Can you tell me I was wrong? Countless millions died, in the hope that humanity could live in a free world. But are you free now? Or do you just enslave each other?"

"You humans?" Squall's hand drifted towards his gunblade. "Typical Centran. Still believe you're the superior race?"

"Superior?" Was Marcus about to reach for his sword? "You have everything my kind did not, yet you waste it all!"

"ENOUGH!" Quistis moved between them just before the swords came out. "What are you? Boys with toys?"

"Stay out of…" Squall started.

"CUT THE MACHO CRAP AND LISTEN!" Quistis screamed.

Squall hoped he wasn't the only one who flinched.

"Marcus, you're a Seed Cadet now. To start with, just follow orders and keep your views to yourself, and you should get used to things without too much trouble. Getting along with people isn't that important. We all know it's not a part of the job."

Squall noticed Rinoa was nodding while looking at him at that last sentence.

"And Squall, you're in charge of Balamb Garden. Problem students are part of the territory, but we NEVER discriminate in terms of background. If Marcus screws up, we all know you'll make him suffer, but until then, he's got the same rights as every other student. Got it?"

"Whatever." Squall wondered why all the girls around him were so dangerous. Rinoa knew all his weaknesses and kept using them every chance she got, Quistis was scary when she got pissed, and Selphie had always been a walking disaster area, even at the orphanage. He could still remember when she'd heard that you could make fireworks from urine and fertilizer.

That was one memory he wished he'd never gotten back.

Then he suddenly remembered what he'd wanted to ask Marcus. "I need to know about Ghost. You knew him pretty well, didn't you? What was he like?"

"Ghost? Everyone knew him. He was always helpful, always open to others. Carrion was the only GEC that hated him."

"Carrion? One of your rivals in the three-way fight? The stupid one?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded. "Carrion hated anyone smarter than he was. Which was everyone he met."

"Whatever. Now, at the speech a few days back, the security systems and automated defences were hacked, by a computer genius. Esthar is the technology capital of the world, but this person penetrated their finest, most impenetrable digital security like it wasn't even there. Even the designers of this system couldn't have cracked it that fast, but this Puppet Master, whoever he or she is, did it so easily, and without leaving a single trace of how they did it. A perfect hack, in every respect." Squall watched Marcus carefully. "So my question is, if Ghost was alive, could he have done this?"

"No." Marcus replied immediately. "Ghost would never help terrorists to attack a target that was not a direct threat to him, and he would never consider assassinating a descendant of Melissa."

"But could his skills have done this? Would he be capable of hacking the Esthar security network?"

Marcus was silent, and the seconds stretched on. "Yes. Easily capable. No computer or digital data was ever safe from Ghost. But he would not do such a thing, and he is dead."

"Is he?" Squall smiled without humor. "Are you sure? He disappeared before you sabotaged the defences of Centra City, didn't he? His body was never recovered, or identified. Which means his death was never confirmed."

"Millions died that day, many eaten. If Ghost escaped the city before the monsters attacked, he would have made it to the base. Since he did not, he must have been among the dead. There was no other way of escape."

"Not even cryostasis?"

"That is…" Marcus struggled. "Highly unlikely."

"But not impossible. There could easily have been cryostasis pods in Centra City that you didn't know about. There'd be tight security, but that wouldn't stop Ghost, would it?"

Silence.

"No." Marcus said finally. "It would not. I agree Ghost could have survived, but he would never kill unless forced to. He cannot be the Puppet Master."

"People can change." Said Squall. "In ways you never thought possible. He has to be a suspect. Unless you know a more likely candidate for the Puppet Master?"

"Squall, he hardly knows anyone in this world." Rinoa sighed. "How would he…"

"Psion." Said Marcus. "He is a more likely candidate."

"Psion?" Squall felt his jaw drop. "Isn't he dead?"

"Yes."

"So you think a corpse, frozen inside a solid block of ice for the past eighty years, is a possible suspect?"

"You don't understand."

"No, but listening to deranged idiots like you is sadly a part of my job, so let's hear it. Why him?"

"You think Psion was a genius." Said Marcus. "But you're wrong. Compared to him, the most incredible genius of your time is just an ant crawling in the dirt. You have no idea what he was capable of."

"So he has the intellect." Said Squall. "And he has the ability. But he doesn't have a pulse!"

"But he could achieve miracles, day after day. What everyone believed was impossible, he did it, easily. There was no problem he could not solve, no enemy he could not outsmart and defeat. If death became his enemy, then…"

"Beating death?" Quistis shook her head. "Impossible. Fighting death and winning is just a fairytale. It can't happen for real."

"GECs and rebels thought that of many things." Marcus replied. "But Psion made all of them reality. If there is any way to escape death, to survive oblivion, then Psion would have found it, and used it. Defeat was something he would never accept."

"But didn't you trust him?" Rinoa cut in. "Why would he be the Puppet Master? What makes you so sure he'd kill innocents, when you were sure Ghost wouldn't?"

"I am not sure. I do not believe he is the Puppet Master, only that he is more likely of the two. Ghost was a genius, but he never treated the death of others lightly, and would only kill when there was no other way. I understood him that much. Psion… I cannot predict his actions or motives, as I never understood him at all. Nobody did." Marcus frowned. "Without him, there would never have been a rebellion, but… the reasons why he built up the rebellion, and what drove him to destroy the Empire so completely, only he knew."

"But, yet again raising the obvious point here, he's dead." Squall repeated. "Resurrection magic just heals all the wounds, then starts the heart and lungs and gets the blood flowing. But you've only got a few minutes to cast it, before brain death occurs. Once that happens, there's nothing that can bring them back. Psion is dead."

Marcus said nothing, but didn't seem to agree. Squall didn't care. "One more thing. If Ghost was the Puppet Master, how would he attack us, and what would be our best strategy for fighting back?"

"I don't…" Marcus started.

"Treat it as a strategic exercise. Pure theory." Quistis smoothed things over. "Imagine us as the bad guys, if you like."

"Confirmed." Marcus said nothing for a while after that.

"Well?" Squall snapped. "Can't you…" Quistis slammed the back of her hand into his chest.

"Squall." Quistis said in a voice that sounded sweet, but held the promise of razorblades. "Everyone thought of him as 'Brute'. He was never smart to begin with, and he was never taught much of anything that wasn't about killing people. And according to Ellone, he didn't even know what a restaurant was until a few hours ago. Since we've just asked him to calculate complex strategy, I think we should give him some time to think about it."

"Whatever." Squall grumbled, conceding the point, and they waited.

"He will not attack in person." Marcus said after a while. "He has nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by doing so. His skills are best suited to using others, such as hiring mercenaries, and bribing or corrupting businesses or governments. Any digital communications could be infiltrated, blocked or changed as he wishes. He will never reveal his location, or draw attention to himself personally."

"That'll cost a lot of money." Rinoa pointed out. "How much would he have?"

"Can money be transmitted by computers?" Marcus asked.

"Of course." Said Squall. "Online banking is pretty much standard."

"Then he has all the money he'll ever need." Said Marcus. "Anything stored on, sent by or received by computers is his, to use as he wishes."

"So we have to find where he is, then attack him head on with as many operatives as possible, without him having any advance warning." Quistis mused. "That's going to be tough…"

"Any ideas on how to find him?" Rinoa asked.

"No." Marcus shook his head. "Multiple locations are likely, but I have no idea where."

"Okay. That's all we need." Squall made a few notes.

"Marcus, get ready to leave for Balamb Garden." Said Quistis. "You probably won't be coming back here for some considerable time, so bring everything you might need."

"Understood." Marcus was almost out of the room before Rinoa called out to him. "Just a sec. What if it is Psion?"

"He's…" Squall began.

"I know he's dead!" Rinoa cut in. "But things don't always stay dead the way they're supposed to! And sometimes they don't die at all! Remember?"

Squall remembered. Sorceress Ultimecia had leapt from one body to the next, her real body safe in the far future while possessing every Sorceress in the present, Edea, Adel. Even Rinoa, sort of.

No, things didn't always stay dead, or die at all. Psion wasn't a Sorceress, but he would have studied them, their strengths and weaknesses, as possible allies or enemies. He was the type to plan ahead, after all. Nobody understood how the Sorceress gift passed from one 'host' to another, but if Psion was the genius Marcus claimed, he might have figured something out.

But what could he have used it for? A consciousness transfer from one body to another? The idea was ridiculous. There was no way that was possible.

But…

"Psion?" Marcus had stopped.

"Yeah. I don't see how it could be him, but if it is…" Said Rinoa. "Then how can we beat him?"

"Beat him?" Marcus seemed confused.

"Yeah. If we're fighting him, what do we do?"

"Die."

"Um…" Rinoa seemed taken back, which didn't happen often. "No, what I mean is…"

"I know what you mean." Marcus was perfectly calm. "But you should understand this. If he is our enemy, then we are all going to die. There is no hope of victory, no means of winning. Psion will have already calculated every possible attack we could make, every way to isolate us from all possible allies before destroying Seed completely. The only thing we can choose is how we die."

"That's it?"

"Of course."

"I didn't think Centrans knew how to surrender." Squall pointed out.

"We don't." Marcus replied. "I fight to the death, always. But if Psion is the Puppet Master, the battle will end in my death, not his. That is the only possible outcome."

"So you didn't know what he did, or why he did it?" Squall shook his head. "And you still trusted him? Why?"

"Two reasons. First, he shielded me from the Empire until the rebellion began, so I owed him my existence. Second, whatever Psion wanted to happen, happened. if he wanted me dead, I would have died. If he wanted the GECs wiped out, we would have been. If he wanted the rebellion destroyed, the rebels would be dust. He never had any reason to deceive us. He had nothing to gain by doing so."

* * *

Quistis found Selphie in the admin section, facing a wall of monitor screens. The spiderbot was jumping around on a large keyboard, tapping away with all 8 legs as the monitor images changed and shifted. Selphie's head jumped from staring at one monitor to the next, giving Quistis the impression of a hummingbird on uppers.

"Hey Quisty!" Selphie bounced up. "You seen this stuff? They've got…"

From long experience, Quistis knew it was best to let the frenzied explanations rush on for a few seconds, before interrupting. "That's good, but we need copies, remember? Did you make any recordings?"

"Me?" Selphie looked like the thought hadn't occurred to her, not that such thoughts ever did. "No."

"Okay, so we'll need copies. Where did you get the data you were looking at?"

"I don't know. Spidey got it for me." The spiderbot raised a foreleg, and Selphie reached over with a handshake… or legshake. "Yeah! Good job!"

Quistis eyed the spiderbot with a wary eye. It was the same one that originally led them to the medical facility, but before it could disappear down a hatchway, Selphie had grabbed it and started giving it orders, and teaching it tricks. Including how to 'play dead'.

In just a few hours, the spiderbot had changed dramatically. From just a robotic servant taking commands from the base AI, it was now developing a distinct personality, and anticipating Selphie's actions to work with her more effectively.

Esthar had developed Artificial Intelligences, of course, but they were extremely expensive to create and run, required far too much hardware to move easily, and were slow to learn and adapt. The AI of this base was incredibly advanced by comparison, but she could see that its design and methodology were broadly similar, just far superior in capability, speed and power.

But the spiderbot AI was something she'd never seen before, or imagined possible. The spider frame not only housed an intelligent and adaptable 'brain' that could easily interact with people or other computers, but also a body that could dodge magical blasts, and perform delicate repairs and maintenance to the base AI.

The soldier spiderbots that attacked them were just programmed machines, but this maintenance spiderbot was a masterpiece of technology. But was it too convenient? Could it be a spy? Not from Marcus, as the Centran wasn't the type to spy on someone when he was close enough to hit them, but from the base AI?

Quistis eyed the spiderbot again, which was making humming noises as Selphie cuddled it. It looked like a puppy, if a puppy had eight legs, a metal body, and luminous eyes.

"And you can ask the AI anything about anyone in the base!" Selphie suddenly remembered. "Clothing measurements, tanning percentages, muscle to fat ratios, anything! Watch this!" She turned to the monitors. "AI, report on Irvy!"

"_Irvy, also known as Irvine Kinneas. Heavy Galbadian accent, probability of Galbadian upbringing over 93 per cent. Mating partner of Selphie Tilmitt."_

Quistis had never seen a face go that red before, and grabbed Selphie just before she dived at the monitor screens headfirst.

"Mating Partner? MATING PARTNER? Take that back, you sick perv! We're not just…" Selphie's voice spluttered into curses that were barely coherent.

"_It is impossible that I am afflicted with either sickness or perversion. All functions are running at optimal levels, and I am unable to simulate sexual identities or inclinations. His identity as your mating partner has been confirmed."_

Quistis had been in situations before that felt like a train wreck in slow motion. This time, it felt like the train had left the rails, and was about to hit every lane of a packed motorway. Just as the passenger jet crashed there.

"_Clear evidence of mating activities has been recorded…"_

_Clear evidence? They've been doing it in here? _Quistis couldn't believe… No, actually she could. Easily. Selphie wasn't exactly backward in coming forward, and Irvine, as always, had a one-track mind. Without the mind.

But if the monitors started showing video recordings, she was dropping Selphie and getting the hell out of here. Salvage operation be damned.

"_Evidence as follows: Excessive frequency and intensity of physical touching, familiarity with behavioural tendencies, highly emotional voices used to converse with each other, increasing heart rate when…"_

"Stop! STOP!" Quistis finally got the words out, as Selphie was about to squirm free and ram several dozen lightning spells up the nearest CPU. "Please. Stop now."

"_Acknowledged."_

"Okay. Don't mention that in future… wait. Why mention it in the first place?" Selphie was beginning to calm down, but Quistis kept an eye on her just in case. "Why would a Centran military AI monitor relationships?"

"_This facility was intended for the long term development and maintenance of genetically enhanced life, primarily those known as the GECs. The production of offspring is a major part of this, so this facility is programmed to increase the numbers and stability of subsequent generations of all genetically enhanced organisms it supports."_

"But we're not genetically enhanced." Quistis pointed out. "So why monitor us?"

"_Two reasons. First, Commander Kensai considers your lives to have value, therefore all base functions that do not have security restrictions have been extended to you. Second, there has been no organic life within this facility for almost eighty years, so many of my functions have been dormant for the same length of time. They must therefore be tested as soon as possible, before Commander Kensai might have need of them."_

"So we're the guinea pigs?"

"_Guinea pigs? Small mammals, often kept as pets. Irrelevant to matter discussed? Please explain meaning in this context."_

"Meaning?" Quistis didn't get it. "Isn't it obvious? 'Guinea pigs' means what things like medicines and vaccines are tested on, to make sure they're safe before being used by humans. You can't test on humans first, that'd be…" _But the Centrans didn't see the slaves as human, did they? Slaves were just resources, used up then thrown away. _"Well, that's what everyone calls initial test subjects."

"_Cultural reference stored."_

"Okay, now what… wait. This information on Irvine, how far does it go? Have you been analysing data on all of us?"

"_That is correct."_

"What?" Selphie's already short fuse looked to be getting shorter. "What are you recording about me?"

Quistis got ready to grab hold of Selphie when she exploded. This wasn't looking good.

"_Selphie Tilmitt. Multiracial accent, mostly Trabian. High levels of computer skills and hacking tendencies. Primary mating partner of Irvine Kinneas."_

"PRIMARY?"

Even though she'd been expecting it, Quistis only just pulled Selphie back before enough fire spells went off to melt the electronics in the wall, and possibly the entire floor, into molten slag.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, PRIMARY? WHO'S SECONDARY?"

"_No other mating partners for Irvine Kinneas have yet been confirmed, but males are expected to have multiple mating partners, in order to transfer far more of their genetic patterns to the next generation."_

"WHAT?!"

Quistis hoped for something to distract Selphie. Anything would do, so long as it wasn't…

"Hey there, ladies!" Irvine.

_Damn_. Quistis felt her heart sink even lower, as Selphie clenched her fists.

Irvine didn't seem to have noticed, which sealed his fate. "How's my favourite girl doing?"

"Sure! Your FAVOURITE! Out of how many?" Selphie slapped him a lot harder than usual, and the usual was pretty hard, and then she stormed off, the spiderbot scuttling after her.

"Wait! I'm sorry for…" Irvine stopped. "Hold on. What am I sorry for?"

"You don't know what you did, but you're apologizing anyway?" Said Quistis.

"Yup. Best way."

"How long have you been doing that?"

"With women?" Irvine shrugged. "All my life. And you're the first to notice. So what did I do? I haven't been flirting with anyone since we got here."

"As there's nobody here to flirt with, I believe you. But for once, and I can't believe I'm saying this, it's not your fault she's mad at you. She was arguing with the AI, and you walked in at the worst moment." She looked at some of the screens. "By the way, what do you think about Marcus? You haven't said much."

"Haven't thought about it much. It's not up to me anyway, right?"

"True, but… Do you think about anything much?"

"Sure I do. Women and guns."

"Typical. Can't you ever keep your mind on the job? On what you're actually doing?"

"Hey, that's not fair. When I'm working, it's totally different. I'm not thinking about women and guns when I'm on the job."

"Really?" Quistis was skeptical, for obvious reasons. "So what do you think about on the job?"

"Guns and women." Irvine grinned. "What else?"

Quistis really wished she didn't believe him, but she did.

* * *

Once Squall had checked the last items of official salvage were loaded onto the Ragnarok shuttle, he let everyone know they could now freely scavenge whatever they wanted. It was disappointing, but nowhere near surprising, that nobody had been waiting for his permission, so everyone was already doing so. Some had hardly been doing anything else from the start.

Not for the first time, he wondered why most people were ambitious. He'd never wanted to be in charge of Garden anyway. All he'd wanted was to be a first-class Seed, and pass his first real mission with flying colours. Instead, his first mission had Rinoa as a client, who'd involved him in an amateur train heist to kidnap the President of Galbadia, which rapidly developed into an assassination attempt on the new ruler of a superpower nation, before ending in a World War and a six on one fight with the most powerful Sorceress who'd ever existed. Everyone said the first mission was always difficult, but this?

And in the middle of it, that conniving headmaster Cid had forced him to take over command of Balamb Garden. While they were at war. And ever since, every time somebody had something they were too stupid, lazy or incompetent to do themselves, they dumped it on him. And this was a job people aimed for? If he'd known how things were going to turn out, he wouldn't have bothered studying every day to get high marks.

And he definitely wouldn't have written that extended essay on the best procedures for Seed agents to correctly maintain a professional distance from their clients, and got a mark of ninety seven per cent for it. Oh yes, Rinoa had nearly died laughing when she saw _that_ one.

Quistis arrived, a gilded statuette in one hand and a landscape painting in the other, and started securing them with the rest of her items. "Aren't you getting anything?"

"No." Squall thought he'd had enough of the Centrans to last one lifetime. He just wanted out of here and back to Balamb Garden, with familiar surroundings that didn't have frozen corpses stacked against the walls.

He looked over the salvage. Quistis seemed to have a taste for classy artworks, but her amount of stuff was fairly modest. Rinoa's pile was larger, and included jewelery and clothing. Irvine had an assortment of gadgets and fashion accessories, probably anything that had caught his eye. Zell had mostly training equipment for martial arts, and light clothing that looked suspiciously like body armour, and probably was.

Seifer had an assortment of items, from expensive-looking relics that were probably getting sold, to a glittering scabbard made of metal and crystalline threads for his gunblade. As for the final member of their group...

"So, Selphie's taking..." Squall looked at the massive pile of... well, stuff was the only accurate word. "Taking..."

He noticed something slowly approaching the shuttle. It looked like a large pile of gadgets and scrap metal, with a pair of legs sticking out of the bottom. There could have been a human in there somewhere, but they'd have had to be short. That, or the whole thing was a contestant for the 'Cheapest Cyborg of the Year' competition.

In front of it, a spiderbot scuttled forwards on four legs, the other four holding up a large crate filled with more junk.

"Taking advantage?" Suggested Quistis.

"Yeah. Taking advantage." Squall shook his head. "Just make sure the shuttle can still take off. And what about Marcus? Where's his equipment?"

"Just his sword, I think. He doesn't seem the type for keepsakes."

"Whatever. So long as he doesn't slit his wrists in the middle of class, I don't give a..." The Ragnarok comm port chimed with an incoming call.

Squall ran to it. Very few people, and only one idiot, could contact the Ragnarok. And since Laguna was already here, this call had to be important. "This is Squall. Go ahead."

The face of General Estoc appeared on the screen. "Hello, Commander Leonhart. I've heard from Laguna about the new Seed recruit. Quite surprising, as I didn't expect you to make an offer this quickly. Unless you were forced into it by someone else. Like Ms Trepe, I expect."

_Damn_ thought Squall. This guy was good. Calm, devious, and so twisted he could walk through a corkscrew. "Why? Are you going to make him a better offer?"

"Oh, I think not, Commander. Not when he's a Galbadian secret agent sent to corrupt Esthar from within."

"He's what?"

Estoc was holding up today's copy of the _Estharian Times. _The headline was '**Widespread Panic as** **Galbadian Secret Agent Causes Carnage at Presidental Speech**', with a photo of Marcus fighting, blood dripping from his sword and a savage snarl on his face.

"You run the intelligence service!" Squall hid his face in his hands. "How could you let this happen?"

"We can't really stop things like this, Commander. One of the requirements of a free and democratic nation is that the press must always be allowed to lie, cheat, and deceive the public with whatever prejudice sells the most copies."

"And denial will be taken as proof, right?" Squall had heard it all before. _People are stupid._ "Then we'll attack. Lots of people will be using this for their own benefit. Find the one getting the most publicity, and tear them to shreds."

"Good idea." Estoc nodded.

"As long as tearing them to shreds is just a metaphor." Quistis pointed out. "And doesn't involve using his gunblade."

"I wouldn't do that." Squall protested. _Not in public, anyway._

"Yes, you would."

"You certainly would."

"Whatever. So who's the target, and when do we strike?" Squall knew Estoc must have come up with this idea long before he did.

"Christopher Ferris would be a wise choice. He's using this event to increase support for his political ambitions, and keep himself and his corporation in the headlines. All in the name of his patriotism for Esthar, of course. Given his charisma and political skills, he's making quite an impression."

"Charisma?" Said Quistis. "He's a narcissist, and a slimy one at that."

"His corporation?" Squall considered. " Ferris Industries? The weapons manufacturer?"

"Exactly." Said Estoc. "He's been the CEO since his father died in suspicious circumstances. After taking control, he started expanding through dirty dealing and unethical practices, and most of his competitors fell victim to scandals, hacking of corporate data, and office vandalism and firebombings. None of it traced back to Ferris himself, of course."

"What does he do for a hobby?" Squall muttered. "Drown kittens?"

"Don't underestimate him, Commander. He gained a lot of popular support when Galbadia attacked Esthar during the last Sorceress War. Estharian born and bred, he's seen by the public as a true patriot, and he's always urged that the protection of Esthar means conquering Galbadia. Even worse, he's made no secret of his ambitions for the Presidential Office. If he ever replaces President Laguna, Esthar would be at war within the year."

"Still think the gunblade's a bad idea?" Squall asked Quistis, before turning back to the viewscreen. "More public the better for the humiliation, right?"

"A dinner party is being held this evening. It's quite a major date in the political calendar, so most of the movers and shakers will be there, including delegates from Balamb, Dollet, and Timber, as well as Galbadia, including General Caraway. Ferris won't be able to resist making a big speech."

"But we'll need enough rope before we hang him." Squall wondered about that, then an idea came to him. _Conspiracy theorists never give up, right? Then I'll give them a conspiracy... _"Get a motorbike outfit ready. And make sure the helmet has a mirrored visor."

* * *

Marcus stepped into the centre of the circular cubicle. He didn't need to prepare to leave, as the few things he needed could be prepared by the AI in seconds. Training was the most efficient use of his time, as the facilities here would obviously be superior to those at wherever he was going.

He drew his sword. "Begin."

Without warning, the floor spun sharply to the right, as an electrified rod shot out of the wall towards the left side of his head. Marcus blocked the rod with his blade, then immediately swept back his right leg to avoid another rod already thrusting towards his knee.

The floor kept spinning, fast then slow then fast, one way then another. More rods came towards him from all directions, thrusting and slashing from above and below in a relentless barrage.

Marcus blocked and dodged every attack with minimal effort and movement, as Drachen had taught him. The more effort you put into defence, the less you could attack.

_Only attack, when ready to kill._

And he must always attack. Always destroy his enemy, no matter the cost.

_Only kill, when ready to die._

And every soldier of the Centran Empire was ready to die for the Empire.

The training facility was programmed to steadily become more difficult, increasing the pressure as the user became tired, or in the case of Marcus, complacent. The rods were no longer attacking randomly, but now moved in synchronized patterns,giving a greater chance of catching the user off guard. The program controlling the rods also recorded the reaction speeds and defences of each user as it attacked them, learning their weak points and using that knowledge to attack them.

Of course, Marcus had no weak points.

Multiple attacks came in from above, all going for the head and upper body. Marcus dodged and blocked with ease, but now the rods were getting faster and faster. With some effort, he maintained his line of defence, allowing nothing to get through.

Then a series of rods slashed out from below, cutting at his legs from all directions at the same time as his head was attacked from above. A near perfect surprise attack that left no safe place for him to move to.

But Marcus knew the answer to that. As the rods came towards his legs, he had already left the floor, arcing his body in a backwards somersault. Attacks high and low swept through empty air, before his sword stabbed into the ground, blocking a rod and clearing a space for his other hand to touch the floor. He flipped backwards as the rods reconfigured themselves for a new attack, coming to his feet just in time to defend himself.

The gathered rods attacked, a flood of attacks coming at him from all sides. He could focus on the first few, so stopping them would be easy enough, but then the others would get through his guard. They were attacking too fast, so if he focused on each one, he would be quickly overwhelmed.

So Marcus focused on none of them, on nothing at all. His mind was clear, his thoughts empty.

And when the first rod slashed towards him, his sword moved purely on reflex, blocking the attack with a casual flick of the wrist. More attacks followed, each one barely noticed by his peripheral vision before it was blocked by his sword.

Marcus was using a technique of his own he'd created and perfected during the Centran Wars, that he called the _web_. By not concentrating his attention on any one thing, he could notice everything around him, and react without having to think.

Instinctively responding to each attacks, his sword flew around him in a blur, weaving a impenetrable barrier that could almost be a shell of solid steel. Every attack was intercepted, everything that came at him knocked aside as if his sword had been there all along. It didn't matter how many enemies attacked him, or how powerful they were – as long as he sustained the web, there was nothing they could do to breach his defences.

_But all my enemies are dead. I have nothing to fight for. Why do I exist?_

A rod slammed down on his left shoulder, and his arm spasmed from the voltage. A hit was meant to be painful and disabling, so because of his enhanced resistance to electric shocks, Marcus had increased the voltage to near-lethal levels for ordinary humans.

As his left arm went limp, Marcus swept his sword up before the rod could retract, and sheared it in half. The incoming attacks demanded his attention, so the pain was forgotten.

But now he was off-balance, no longer in control. A second rod jabbed him in the stomach, and Marcus lost control, going on the offensive. Rods were snapped and hacked off as he spun and twisted, jumped and dived, taking a third hit to the right leg as the attacks tailed off. Marcus resumed his defensive stance...

And then the lights turned red, and the calm voice of the AI spoke. _"The training session is over." _Marcus lowered his sword in mid-strike, and left the training cubicle. A towel was dispensed in a hatch just outside.

Marcus looked at the towel. "Why?" It wasn't something he'd requested before.

"_You are among new associates."_ The AI told him. _"Behavioural data indicates a minimum of hygiene is required to maintain status and promote their trust."_

Marcus considered that, then reached for the towel and wiped off his sweat. The AI was usually right about these matters, and it was only the work of a moment, but that was the problem. If he gained status and trust with so little, then it was worthless, so why should he care about their opinions?

He suddenly thought about Ellone, and wondered why.

"_Your performance level has dropped significantly."_ The AI began the assessment of the training session. _"Analysis shows this is not due to injury or fatigue, and you are in perfect health, without illness or poisoning of any kind. The cause of your weakness is therefore presumed to be psychological in nature."_

Marcus said nothing. Caring about things like that was a human trait, so it had nothing to do with him.

"_Many psychiatric counselling programmes and therapy sessions are available for your..."_

"No." Marcus cut it off. "No counselling, no therapy. Take no action of any kind."

"_Confirmed."_

The AI said nothing more, and Marcus moved to a service hatch. "I need supplies."

A menu appeared on the nearest monitor screen. Marcus chose his backup weapon first, a short sword with a curved blade, then clothing. He took one jumpsuit of each camouflage colour, green, yellow and white, and the rest all in black. He didn't bother with casual clothing, not seeing the need. But he would need something else.

"Also money, enough for months or years." He requested.

A thick sheaf of banknotes was dispensed a few moments later. Marcus divided the sheaf into quarters, then hid them in his clothing in different areas. Division of resources was an essential part of strategy.

Marcus tried to think about anything else he might need to take with him, but his mind kept returning to the same question, without finding an answer.

_Why do I exist?_

He'd always hated the Empire. He'd wanted revenge, whatever it cost. But now... There was nobody left for him to hate. Everyone who had ever done anything to him was dead. The Empire was just an ancient memory. And he was still here. This was the one future he hadn't expected. Death, defeat, he'd been ready for. But never this.

And because of that, he hated the Empire even more. They'd taken his life, leaving only his existence, and he couldn't stop them. And when they were supposed to kill him, to finally end his existence, they couldn't do it. They'd stolen everything he'd wanted most, and given back the one thing he'd always wanted them to take.

_What is my purpose?_

"There you are!" The shout interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see the short girl, Selphie, running towards him. "The AI wouldn't tell me where you were!"

"I was training. Training sessions can only be disturbed by those of higher rank." While there were many things he didn't understand, Marcus often found Selphie the most confusing of all. She reminded him of the highest-grade military explosive; a tiny, lightweight package that looked completely harmless until it detonated, turning a mass of war machines into small fragments of scrap metal.

He hadn't told anyone else about this. He didn't understand why, but he somehow got the feeling that it wouldn't be a good idea.

"And you're the highest rank here, right?" Selphie shrugged. "Well, never mind that. Can I keep Spidey?"

"What?" Marcus tried to keep up with the conversation, but felt he'd already lost. "Who? Why?"

"Spidey!" Selphie pointed, as a spiderbot crawled up her shoulder and waved two of its front legs. "Can I keep him?"

The spiderbot was behaving strangely. Was it broken? As a maintenance drone, it was meant to perform duties as efficiently as possible. Unnecessary movement was a waste of power, so why...

"Well?"

"It has access codes and security protocols for the base. That data cannot be allowed outside."

"I don't want that stuff anyway! Can't you delete it?"

"Well... yes. " Marcus wondered why he was objecting. There was nothing the spiderbot could do to gain access to any of the bioweapons, as he was the only one who could unlock the security. As for the rest of the weapons, what did it matter? He didn't need them, and the people of the world already had more than enough swords, guns and bombs to kill each other with. So what difference would it make, anyway? "Very well. Tell it to update at the central administrative section, and the AI will remove all the security data. Then do what you like with it."

"Yay!"Selphie danced around, and Marcus found it very difficult to believe what he'd said about her before – that she was far more dangerous than she appeared.

Then she stopped, staring straight at him, and he could believe it with no trouble at all.

"You don't seem too excited about leaving here." Selphie moved closer. "Do you want to join Seed?"

"No."

"So you want to stay here?"

"No. Wanting is not something I do."

"But that's stupid." Marcus had no idea of her intentions, but her body language was another matter. If this had been a fight, Selphie would be about to launch an all-out attack. "You're not a slave now, are you? You can do what you want, for a change. You won your freedom. Why not use it for once, and do something for yourself?"

"You know my past."

"Yeah, but..."

"You know what the Empire did, and what they tried to do. Do you still think Centrans should get what they want?"

"That was other Centrans. Not you."

"Did other Centrans kill millions? Condemned an entire city of men, women and children to be eaten alive? Drive an entire race into extinction?" Marcus hissed. "No. Just me. Just for revenge."

Selphie looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything.

"You understand?" Said Marcus. "Even among Centrans, I am..."

"So you wanted everyone in Centra City to die, right?" Selphie asked. "And you wouldn't have been interested in any other way to kill the Emperor? Is that what you're saying?"

Marcus began to speak....

Then stopped.

Saying yes would be a lie. He knew that. He'd wanted Ouroborous stopped, he'd wanted the Emperor dead. He hadn't wanted everyone else to die, but...

He'd wanted victory. And victory always came first, everything else last. If you couldn't sacrifice everything, just to win, then you were a traitor, a liability, and better off dead. He'd always known that. He'd always followed that. And he could never have allowed Ouroborous to happen, whatever it cost.

But he still hadn't wanted to kill everyone. It was just something that had to be done. But...

_Regret?_

_Why?_

"Well?" Selphie asked. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" Marcus didn't understand.

"Did you want to..." Selphie sighed. "Well, forget that. Isn't there something that you want? You don't have to try to get it, just think of it. It's not that hard, right?"

"True." Marcus agreed. As he had nothing else to do, there was no reason to refuse her request. What did he want? A simple answer, with simple answers.

To be human. To be normal. To not be a weapon. To be something, anything, other than Centran. To have a life, not just an existence. To feel something other than pain or hatred, even if only for a day.

But he couldn't have those things, so wanting them was pointless. What else was there?

Most rebel soldiers had spoken of their dreams, what they'd do after the war was over. Big or little, impossible or simple, they all tended to blur together. He'd never bothered to remember, or care. Even among the Blades.

Except one. The one he had been asked to help with, to be a part of.

"I want to see Esthar again."

"What? Why there?" Selphie looked shocked. "I mean, it's a great place, brilliant nightclubs and all the shopping a girl could want, but you?"

"Esthar was Nathan's dream." Marcus explained. "He wanted to build a city that would never be conquered, never be dominated, where none of its people would ever submit to slavery. He said that there would be freedom for everyone who lived there, because everyone, no matter how rich and powerful, would bow to the same law, without prejudice or favour." Marcus walked towards the exit. " Esthar is his city, and I want to see what his dream became."

* * *

"Is there anyone in the Vault?" Ellone asked.

"_Not at present." _The AI responded. _"You were the last to leave the Vault when all current inhabitants were there. Nobody has entered since."_

"Okay." Ellone thought about what she was going to do. "If anyone asks, can you not tell them where I am?"

"_Confirmed. Your location will never be revealed to any inhabitants of lower rank until you or a higher ranking individual orders otherwise. Do you wish any lower rank inhabitants that search for you to be denied access to the Vault?"_

"You can do that? Won't they get suspicious?"

"_Evidence of mechanical and computer failure will be created. Such functions have been required many times before."_

"Then yes, I'd like that. Thank you." Then she suddenly realised. "Hold on. There are inhabitants of lower rank than me? Apart from Marcus, aren't we all the same rank?"

"_Incorrect. Commander Kensai holds a higher rank than you. All other base inhabitants hold a lower rank than you."_

"What! Since when?"

"_Shortly after your arrival, Commander Kensai ordered that this facility obeyed your orders as if they were his own. This command could not be followed, as there can only be one Commander. You were therefore installed as Subcommander of this facility."_

"Subcommander? What about Psion?"

"_Psion is dead."_

"I know that!"

"_Then you should know that he no longer holds any military rank."_

Ellone would have slapped the AI, assuming there had been anything to slap. "Fine. So what do I have to do as Subcommander?"

"_You do not have to do anything." _The AI responded. _"If you give an order to this facility, it will be followed unless it will cause harm to the Commander, or contravenes or is countered by any existing order that has been given by the Commander. Example: the lockdown on bioweapons and other weaponry."_

Ellone couldn't take it all in, so decided not to try. "Okay. Can I go to the Vault, please?"

"_Confirmed."_ The lift stopped a few seconds later, and Ellone walked up to the cryostasis cubicle she'd come for.

"Hello, Melissa."

The body that could have been her twin sister didn't respond, of course. But Ellone still felt she had to say... well, something.

"Or should I say great grandmother? Did you wonder who your parents were as much as I wondered about mine? Probably, but... I never expected this. I suppose you didn't either, really."

"Just to let you know, I'm hoping Marcus won't be coming back here. Or if he does, it's not for a long time. I don't think he should be here. However good the technology, this isn't a place for people to live."

"And while I'm talking about Marcus..." Ellone took a deep breath, then said what she'd really come here to say.

"I can't believe you hated him like that. How could you just turn on him after everything he'd done for you?" She felt her voice rising. "He trusted you, Melissa! He always took your side! He always protected you, always fought to keep you safe, even when you hated him! Even now, he always sees the best in you, and the worst in himself, just like he always has."

"Remember when you were a child, and you used your power on him? I know that was an accident, and it wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you for screaming out loud, but... He was tortured in your place. You saw the pain he was in, but he still volunteered for more of it, so you wouldn't have to suffer. That should have told you enough about him to know that he wouldn't have wanted to kill millions of people, and he'd never do such a thing if there was any other choice."

"And he didn't want to. But you thought he had a choice, and he didn't. All the people in the world today, living their lives, being with family and friends, dreaming their dreams... And not one of them would ever have a life at all if Centra hadn't been stopped."

"And how would you have stopped them? Talked to them? Diplomacy? You knew them better than that. They wouldn't have listened. They would have just destroyed you. Marcus did the only thing he could to stop them."

"Or maybe you think Marcus should have come up with a better plan? How? He's not that smart, Melissa! Even I can see that. He's not as stupid as he thinks he is, but he's not that smart. It was Psion who came up with the plan, so why don't you blame him? Isn't Psion the one at fault?"

"But you hated him. You kept your distance, and he never complained. And when you were going to marry Gregor, he still tried to protect you..." Ellone stopped. "That's something else I keep thinking about. I mean, I know I'm only here because the two of you got together, but... Did you love him? Really? I hope you did. But I can't help wondering if you were still scared, of Marcus and the war and everything else, so you went for someone that you saw as his complete opposite, just so you wouldn't be alone? Is that what really happened?"

Still silence.

"I guess I'll never know. I'll never know a lot of things, but... I know about Marcus. I know he thinks you never stopped hating him, even when you all entered cryostasis. I know you were about to forgive him, to apologize for what you'd done, but he doesn't think that. He might never think that, but I'll keep trying. Someday, I'll make him understand."

"But most of all, I know he doesn't want to be the way he is. He never wanted it from the beginning, so I won't let things stay the way they are. He's always taken other peoples sides, always fought on behalf of other people. He took the side of the rebels, fought the war for them, even when the ones in charge never trusted him. But nobody has ever taken his side, have they? Not once."

She clenched her fists. "And that's going to stop, right now. I'm taking his side. I'm going to see to it that he has a place in this world. He deserves a life of his own, and I'm going to see to it that he gets one."

Ellone started to leave the Vault, then turned back to Melissa's body.

"Whether he wants it or not."

**Maybe she should think before making a promise like that – but then, nobody else is thinking ahead much, are they? Chapter 17 coming up, where Squall hopes that Seed will conduct themselves with the proper dignity required for a highly important social occasion – but when Siefer is forced to apologise (bad idea), Marcus is taught how to start conversations with strangers (worse idea), and an old school acquaintance of one of the group tries a game of 'my boyfriend can beat up your boyfriend' (a 'you think the Titanic was bad, wait till you see this' idea), it's clear that anything can happen when you're dealing with ****Diplomancy, dinner parties and other disasters****...**


	17. Diplomacy, Dinner Parties and Other Disa

_**Finally, it's up! Sorry about the wait – hope you enjoy this chapter. Submissions will be coming through a lot faster now I've got everything sorted out.**_

_**Quistis now has a new person to teach social skills to! This one won't tell her to 'go talk to a wall' (like Squall did) and he's actually going to listen to everything she says, and try his hardest! Will this work better?**_

_**Do pigs fly?**_

_**And have you ever wondered how and why the Empire began? Now you'll find out, and it probably wasn't what you were expecting. The true flaw of the Centrans wasn't ambition, or lust for power, but the fact that they could never let things go. Marcus isn't the only example of how far a Centran will go to get revenge – and he might not even be the worst example, either…**_

'_Endure. In enduring, grow strong.' __**A very controversial proverb, given that all available evidence suggests it that it originated from Centra, but at the time before the Empire was founded, of which practically nothing is known. A small minority of scholars, including Centran expert Professor Beltaine, have taken this as proof that the Centrans were once highly civilized, and degenerated into the founders of their xenophobic and megalomaniac Empire for reasons still unknown. This view is of course highly controversial, but as Professor Beltaine has repeatedly stated:**__ 'It is imperative that we put greater efforts into understanding not only how the Centrans fell into the evils of the Empire, but more importantly why – for how else can we overcome such a thing if it happens to us?'_

"_The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions."_ – **Saint Bernard of Clairvaux**

Chapter 17: Diplomacy, Dinner Parties and Other Disasters

"Although each of our training centers, or 'Gardens', trains Seed mercenaries" Quistis began "the primary fields of study are different for each. Trabia Garden specialized in magic and supporting roles, before it was destroyed by a missile strike by the Galbadian army during the last Sorceress War, so all Trabian cadets that didn't quit transferred to Balamb Garden – not Galbadia Garden, for obvious reasons. But dropout rates have been high."

"It's not their fault!" Selphie protested.

"Of course not, Selphie. But we can't train them like Trabia did, or to be Trabian Seeds. We can only train them to be Balamb Seeds, and many of them can't handle that."

"Caryn is from Trabia, correct?" Asked Marcus.

"She is, which would make it very likely she'd drop out, if she hadn't proven herself in Esthar a few days ago. It all depends on whether her actions then were a fluke, or if she has a natural aptitude to become a Balamb Seed – like Selphie."

"And Galbadia?"

"Galbadian Seeds have a training program very similar to military special forces. They can adapt well to our training programme, but..."

"But since they tried to invade Balamb Garden, every Balamb student hates their guts." Squall pointed out.

Everyone looked at Seifer.

"That's right!" Said Seifer. "I took control of Galbadia Garden, rammed it into Balamb Garden, and invaded. And yes, I didn't win. Thanks for pointing that out, and making sure we don't forget. Now, anyone have anything else to say to piss me off?"

"But you do it so well, Seifer." Said Irvine. "We'll leave it to you."

"And as a result" Quistis continued. "Most Galbadian transfer cadets end up going back to Galbadia Garden fairly quickly. Those few that remain are hated by both Balamb and Trabian cadets."

Marcus considered that, then looked at Irvine. "But isn't..."

"Well sorta, yeah, but nobody sees me as a real Galbadian anymore. Trying to blow the brains out of their peace ambassador kinda burned my bridges on that one. Course, that was after she killed the Galbadian president, and I was under orders from Galbadia Garden, so can't really see how that makes me a traitor. Should've listened to my stepdad about getting involved in politics."

"Why?" Rinoa asked. "What did he say?"

"Don't."

"Makes sense. But would you have saved the President, if you'd known?"

"Hell no." Irvine scoffed. "Asshole had it coming. If I'd had a spare bullet, I'd have blown him away too."

"Regular traitor, aren't you, cowboy." Seifer muttered.

Irvine shrugged. "Would have been a traitor to somebody, whatever I did." He glanced at the cockpit, where Selphie was flying the plane. "And any country's just a lump of dirt."

"Moving on." Said Quistis." That's the way Garden relations stand at present. Your cover story makes you a Balamb cadet, so you'll need to know our specialist field – which means you'll need experience in using a GF, or Guardian Force." She took out a large blue jewel, sparkling from within. "This is Shiva, the GF of ice. Based on your personality, she should be the most compatible, and therefore the easiest to get used to. This one is low level at present, so don't expect too much. Here."

Quistis handed the Shiva stone to Marcus, who stared at it, unblinking. "What do I do with it?"

"First, relax. You need skin contact, so hold the stone in your hand. Get used to the feel, and the cold." Quistis had slipped into instructor mode. "When you're ready, visualize the stone joining with you, becoming linked to your mind. Don't imagine yourself absorbing it – GF's don't like that, and they can get pretty temperamental when would-be users don't respect them. You have to remember it's a two way relationship. You give, you get, and most of all, you work together. Understand?"

Marcus nodded.

"Okay. Now try to link to Shiva. It won't happen straight away, and don't expect to get it perfect on your first try. Be patient."

A few minutes ticked by, then several more, but nothing changed. Quistis frowned. "Strange. Something usually should have happened by now. Do you feel anything different?"

"I feel nothing."

"The first junctioning is usually difficult, but something should have happened by now." She shrugged. "Even if it's only a rejection. Maybe you need a little help. Let me have Shiva a moment."

Quistis took the GF stone back, concentrated, and the jewel disappeared in a shimmer of ice blue. "Person to person transfer should be easier. Just give me your hand, and I'll..."

_Incomplete._

"What?" Quistis hadn't expected that. Shiva rarely spoke, but when she did, it was always short and to the point.

Quistis focused her thoughts. Popular opinion was that when you junctioned a GF, it could read your thoughts, but this was only a half-truth. To communicate with a GF, you had to control and 'shout' your thoughts inside your mind, a confusing experience that took some getting used to.

_What's incomplete? Are you not compatible?_ Quistis had thought Shiva would be the perfect match for Marcus – the GF preferred those who were rational, logical and methodical, like Squall and Quistis herself, and definitely not Selphie.

_Host is compatible, but is incomplete. Cannot create link. Junctioning impossible._

"Ah." Quistis concentrated, and the blue gemstone appeared in the palm of her hand. "Marcus, your magic resistance – it isn't natural, is it? Wasn't it caused by genetic engineering?"

"Yes." Said Marcus. "They said it was the best way to ensure I could not be controlled or brainwashed by magic, as a Sorceress was believed to be capable of. Other GECs had enhanced magic skills, but my purpose was to fight on the front lines, so magical abilities were not required of me."

"But they didn't just take away your ability to use magic." Quistis turned to Squall. "Making him a GEC took away something vital to junctioning. He'll never be able to use GFs, Squall. It's impossible."

"Whatever." Squall shrugged, but didn't look disappointed at all. If anything he might have been pleased. Quistis wondered if he'd been hoping Marcus wouldn't get too powerful. "But as far as anyone else knows, you're junctioned. If anyone wants any details, tough. You're under orders to keep everything confidential, and that's all you're allowed to say."

"Whose orders?"

"Mine." Squall's voice allowed no argument. "Same as your orders for this evening. The closer Ferris gets to power, the closer we all get to war, and he's using you to get himself there. You know what you have to do?"

"Confirmed." Marcus nodded. "I will..."

The viewscreen flashed on, and Laguna appeared. "Yo, Squally! Got a question!"

"What now?" Squall snapped.

"How did the Centran Empire begin?" Kiros also appeared on the viewscreen. "We know a rough date, and how fast they conquered the world, but we don't anything about why, or even how. What little we know of the time says there wasn't anything even remotely like a world government or an alliance of nations. A tribe or two might have been in a war with the Centrans, but not the entire world. So what happened? Nobody knows anything about it."

"Neither did the Centrans." Said Marcus. "Mostly. They were told that the Empire was their natural right, as a result of their obvious superiority over all other races. That it had always been, so it would always be."

"And they believed that? Even the non-Centrans?"

"Within the Empire, the Emperor's word was the ultimate truth. To doubt such truth was treason, and treason was death." The Centran paused. "Eventually."

"But nobody asked?" Quistis was curious. "Not anyone?"

"No. Stability was assumed by all. Until Psion."

"The GEC genius?" Said Squall. "What did he know?"

"Everything." Marcus stated. "Psion would never accept any gap in his knowledge. He said that only those who think for themselves can question, and only those who question have a mind that is truly their own."

"Ellone said you never questioned anyone, freak." Seifer cut in.

"I was a slave." Marcus didn't react to the insult, almost certainly didn't care about it, and probably didn't even recognise he'd been insulted, anyway.

"So did Psion tell you the truth?" Squall pressed.

"He told me the recorded history that he found." Marcus paused. "He said that it was not the truth, only as close as anyone would ever get."

"So what really happened?" Laguna sounded eager.

"From the beginning, the Centrans were reclusive, having little interest in trade or contact with other races. They were entirely self-sufficient, their main item of trade the most valuable thing they possessed – their knowledge of medicine and the healing arts."

Irvine choked. "Weird. For a moment there, thought you said the Centrans were a bunch of healers."

"I did." Marcus replied. "And they were."

"Healer soldiers?" Seifer laughed. "What'd they do? Cut people up and stitch them back together afterwards?"

"They were not soldiers." Marcus shook his head. "They believed violence was always wrong, that it should never be used, no matter what the situation. That those with only peaceful intentions had no need to fear violence, for they would never be attacked."

"You're kidding, right?" Rinoa spluttered. "The Centrans were pacifists?"

"What?"

"People who believe it's always wrong to use violence for any reason, even when it's the only way to defend themselves." Squall scowled. "Like those idiots at Fishermans Horizon. Lecturing us on why we should never use violence to solve anything, then begging us for help when Galbadia attacked."

"Then yes, the ancient Centrans were pacifists. But they never lectured, and always kept themselves apart from other races. Their only interests lay in study and furthering their knowledge of the healing arts. Mating with someone of another race was not forbidden, as far as is known, but almost unheard of. And because they were so distant from all other races, they never knew how much they were hated, until it was too late."

"They were hated?" Riona looked surprised. "But you said they were healers, nothing more! What did they do?"

"They healed." Said Marcus. "But they couldn't heal everyone, and that was all it took. Your ancestors saw the Centrans healers as miracle workers, thinking they could return the dead to life. All Centran healers traveled the world from time to time, practicing their skills and bringing back new reagents or techniques. As they became famous, many of your ancestors started to believe that they could cure any illness, heal any injury, and then..."

"Let me guess." Squall interrupted. "If a Centran tried to help one of their friends, and they died, then the Centran must have murdered them, right?" He shook his head. "Idiots."

"Yes. The Centrans were blamed for every death, every injury they could not heal, even those whose illnesses were self-inflicted. Others hated the Centrans for different reasons."

"Such as?"

"Religions often claimed plagues were sent by the gods to punish the unworthy, and only their followers would be saved. Centran healers could not cure every plague victim, but they saved many, and their knowledge ended many contagious diseases far sooner than expected. As these religions shrank in numbers and power, their hatred increased." A seething undercurrent was growing steadily in the Centrans voice. "And there were others, wanting to satisfy their greed with the great riches such talented healers must have had."

"But they didn't have anything of value, did they?"

"Hardly." Said Marcus. "They had healing reagents and substances, and plant and animal extracts from across the world, and that was all. Some might have been valuable in trade, but most were worthless to all but the Centrans. Many tribe and settlements gave such things in tribute, as the Centrans had no use for gold or silver. They valued only knowledge, never wealth."

"But that means the Centrans had allies, right? So why didn't they help?"

"They never got the chance. They never knew what was happening. The Pravus tribe was the first to strike, and others joined them."

"Wait... Pravus? That means..." Quistis only knew a little Latin, but she'd heard that word before somewhere. She was pretty sure it was an insult, and a serious one. "Something bad, doesn't it? Why would they call themselves that?"

"They didn't. Their name was wiped from history, every trace of them wiped from existence. Pravus was the name the Centrans gave them afterwards."

"After wha..." Zell began, then thankfully received the unspoken message from everyone else, telling him to shut the hell up.

"The Pravus attacked without warning. Some Centrans died quickly, most as they begged and pleaded for their lives. They were the lucky ones. The others were captured."

"What..." Rinoa forced the words out. "What did they do to them?"

"Interrogation, at first. The Pravus wanted to know where the Centrans were hiding their treasures, where they worshiped their demons, where they held the captives they abducted and tortured while pretending to heal them."

"But none of that was real."

"None of it. But the more the Pravus found no evidence, the more they believed it proved they were right, that it was evidence of what the Centrans were hiding. So they wanted answers, and they had many captives, many of them women and children, to use to... encourage them to talk."

"What did they..." Rinoa began.

"You don't want to know."

"We're professionals." Squall stated. "Not rookies. We can..."

"You don't" Marcus spoke sharply as a blade. "want to know." He stopped. "They did whatever they wanted, everything they wanted, over and over again. The Centrans were demons, so the Pravus could do whatever they liked. Whatever they enjoyed. And the more it pleasured them, the more they did. There were records, some rumoured, others accurate and detailed. Psion pieced them all together, and gave me those tortures he judged most effective, so I could study them in detail."

"Wait..." Rinoa looked shocked. "You studied what they did? Why?"

"So I could do it to the Centrans."

"YOU WHAT?"Rinoa screamed.

Quistis flinched, something she prided herself on never doing, but since everyone was doing the same thing, nobody noticed. Even Seifer looked disgusted, which might have been a first.

"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU? TO DO THINGS LIKE THAT! WHAT IN HYNE'S NAME..."

"You have forgotten why I was created." Marcus hadn't reacted at all. "Don't you remember? I. Am. A. Weapon. A sword does not choose who to cut. It just cuts, and never asks why. Right or wrong is irrelevant. All that matters, is using what is most effective. And what they did was very effective."

"Did you?" Ellone was the first to speak. "Did you ever do it?"

"Elle, don't ask." Said Squall. "Really. Don't ask."

"Did you?"

"I said don't..."

"No." Said Marcus. "I did not. I was not needed to. Psion knew others would serve better as torturers."

"Other GECs, right?" Seifer sneered. "More of your race."

"Not my race." Replied Marcus. "Yours. Psion ordered that only the human rebels would torture the enemy. I don't know why."

"Because everyone would think you were going easy on your own kind." Said Squall. "People are stupid."

"I see." Marcus nodded. "But the rebels had more than enough torturers, all eager to use their skills, whether we needed information or not. They didn't need me for that."

Quistis could see the irony. Marcus was an inhuman weapon of war, but even in one of the most terrible wars the world had ever known, he'd still been more civilized than most of the soldiers who were meant to be fighting for freedom.

"The Centrans were tortured until they died, every last one. When there were no more captives, the Pravus looted everything of value, and destroyed everything else. Then they went home, to celebrate their... victory."

"But there must have been survivors." Quistis pointed out. "So where were they?"

"Underground." Said Marcus. "The Centrans used cave networks to harvest healing reagents, fungi and insect extracts. All the entrances could be collapsed easily in case of monster attacks. What remained of the Centran race cowered in fear in the caverns, weak and helpless."

"So what then?"

"Then, they changed. None spoke for peace, none for a truce. They had been murdered without cause, for no reason, and were now facing the extinction of their race. Humans did not kill without a reason, therefore the Pravus were not human. They were an infection, and infections have to be sterilised. By whatever means necessary."

"How?" Seifer scoffed. "Outnumbered, a few weapons, and no training at all. And they thought they could fight?"

"They didn't fight." Said Marcus. "They didn't want to fight. They wanted to kill, so that was what they did. They knew more about diseases, plagues and poisons than anyone, how to kill as well as cure. Knowledge they'd never used before. But now, they did."

"How?"

"Scavengers from the Pravus later arrived at the Centran ruins. The Centrans left luxury foodstuffs."

"And they just ate them?" Said Seifer. "How stupid were they?"

"They tested them on their animals first, to make sure it was safe. And they were luxuries, worth more to sell than to eat."

"Slow acting poison?"Squall asked. "Or slow something else?"

"Something else." Marcus confirmed. "A drug. The most powerful the Centrans knew, at the time. It..." He stopped, looking disturbed.

"It's that bad?" Quistis was shocked. If this drug did something so horrible it could even upset Marcus, did she really want to hear it? Did anyone?

Marcus shook his head. "No, complicated. When Psion explained it, I couldn't understand anything.."

"Ah." Quistis was relieved. Marcus being confused didn't trouble her – the Centran might be hell on wheels in a fight, but sometimes was as dumb as forging a nine gil note.

"It..." Marcus tried again. "Did something to the brain, that couldn't be healed. Twisted the mind, by... killing reason and feeding monsters. Or something. It made them violent, paranoid, crazed for blood. Their only thought was to kill. Like..." His eyes glanced forward for a second, and his voice tailed off.

Quistis followed the glance, and saw the viewscreen from the other aircraft, showing Ellone, Laguna, and Kiros. Which in the eyes of Marcus, meant Ellone, Ellone, and Ellone. And that meant... what?

_Hmmm._

"That night, the Pravus felt only blood and terror, as they did every night afterwards. Much of the food had been eaten by the rulers, the one in charge. They killed their families first, then everyone around them. Some tried to escape, running for their lives. But the Centrans were waiting for them."

"Shock tactics." Said Squall. "Good to start with, but they don't last. And the Centrans would still have been outnumbered, and still at a severe disadvantage when they attacked."

"You don't understand." Marcus shook his head. "The Centrans never attacked the Pravus. They never fought them, never waged war against them. They just killed Pravus. Any Pravus. Every Pravus. Every drug and poison, everything they knew, all dedicated to a single purpose. No more Pravus. Ever."

"But what about the Pravus who weren't involved?" Selphie asked. "What about the kids?"

"No more Pravus."

"Even babies? Newborns?"

"No. More. Pravus."

Having studied politics, Quistis was well aware of how small actions could often lead to massive consequences, but she'd never imagined anything on this scale. The Centran Empire had ruled the world for centuries, guilty of every possible evil act and murderous atrocity known to mankind, crushing every country of the world into slavery. Countless millions of lives destroyed, untold horrors still touching almost every family alive today, not to mention Project Ouroboros, that would have effectively enslaved all non-Centran humanity on the planet forever. And the cause of all this? A bunch of deranged greedy bastards who were looking for a fight, and picked an easy target. Of all the stupid...

She couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for any of the Pravus. If only they'd been killed off earlier, the Centrans would have been left alone, and the world could have had cancer cures, replacement organ cloning, and other miraculous medical technologies, instead of a race of insane murderous fanatics that ruled the world. Whatever the Centrans did to them, the Pravus had deserved it.

"So the Pravus died out." Said Squall. "But what happened then? The Centrans would have been vulnerable to another attack."

"True. So they retreated to the caves, and took the steps needed to preserve their race. Inbreeding was inevitable, but genetic disorders were identified, then restricted. Mating partners were assigned from birth, to protect their genetic code from corruption."

"From birth?" Rinoa asked. "They were told who to marry, who to have children with? And they accepted this?"

"They had to." Said Marcus. "It was to preserve their race. To avoid extinction. All else was judged irrelevant."

"And when they encountered other races?" Squall asked. "What happened then?"

"They didn't. The Centrans remained hidden underground, and without knowing what happened to the Pravus, other races thought the region was cursed. The Centrans sometimes spread diseases to encourage this belief, so most stayed away."

"And those that didn't were killed, right?"

"Yes. Their disposal left no trace, encouraging the fears of other races." Said Marcus. "Some generations later, the Centrans returned to the surface world, but they had changed. They were as you have always known them. Ruthless. Remorseless. Deadly. They rebuilt their home and the means to defend it, without telling anyone they were there. And when people finally discovered their presence, they were told the truth. That the Pravus had attacked them, and the Centrans were justified in exterminating them."

"And the response?"

"The visitors expressed their empty sorrow, offered their meaningless pity, and explained that the world had changed, that such senseless evil would never happen again. The Centrans listened, and watched the visitors depart with their promises of peace and goodwill."

"And then?"

"The visitors spoke differently to their people. They spoke of the horrible atrocities the Centrans must have committed, that the Pravus would never have killed others unless it was justified. That the Centrans must have been guilty of terrible crimes, for the Pravus to act the way they did. And since the Centrans must be guilty, they had to pay for what they did. So to teach the Centrans their place, they raised an army."

"They thought they could win?" Said Squall. "Didn't they know the Centrans had changed?"

"They thought the Centrans had been fooled. They were wrong." Said Marcus. "The Centrans had learned from the past. To the outsiders, they had hid their numbers, their defenses, their weapons. They had trusted others before, and it had almost destroyed them. Now, they trusted only the dead. So, when they were attacked, they were ready. "

"No survivors, then."

"None. The Centrans exterminated them like vermin, then marched to their settlements, and took whatever they wanted, in return for not killing everyone there. If there was nothing else, they took slaves. Others attacked them in revenge, and were crushed. And with every victory, they controlled more land, more resources. And finally, they controlled the entire continent, and every life upon it."

"And the other countries? They did nothing?"

"Each of them attacked now and then, but never allied together, and they never gained a foothold on the Centran continent. But they did kill some Centrans now and then, including the family of a child washed up on the shores of a Centran village. A child with eyes black as midnight. A child named Typhon, who became Typhon the Conqueror, founder of the Centran Empire."

"The First Emperor." Said Squall. "But his origin story's fake, isn't it?"

"Probably." Marcus nodded. "But that is all I know. I studied the battles of when the Empire was founded, but not the actual campaign. My role is conflict, not conquering."

"So that's the story of the Centrans." Irvine announced with a flourish. "Stay tuned for next weeks installment, on wrist-slash FM."

"It wasn't entertainment, Kinneas." Said Squall. "It was a factual account."

"It was depressing! This is a dinner party, right? He needs stories to attract women! I can help with tha..."

"NO!" Quistis, Squall and Rinoa shouted at the same time.

"If I could interrupt your social studies a moment?" General Estoc cut in. "We're about to land, and the press are waiting in ambush, so you'll need to be unprepared."

"Sure, everything rea... What?" Squall was confused again. "Don't we need to plan what I'm going to say?"

"No, bad idea." Estoc shook his head. "You talk to the press, they'll get suspicious. You try and be nice to them, even the most ignorant petty hack would know you're up to something. Just be unpleasant, say as little as possible, and shove people out of the way. In other words..." He smiled. "Just act normal."

Quistis was nodding before she realised. Then again, so was everyone else. Except Marcus, who didn't really count.

* * *

The arrival of the Balamb Garden Seeds in their Ragnarok battle cruiser would have gotten news coverage any day of the week, but the recent battle between the Adelists and the security forces, combined with the incident on the transcontinental bridge, where they were still trying to clear away the wreckage of the lorry, made every news agency desperate for live coverage. Squall Leonhart never said anything but press releases were given by Quistis Trepe, in her unoffical role as Balamb Garden's press officer, as well as President Laguna. Of course, the real answers would be given at the dinner party tonight, so the press were all focused on that.

Which is why none of them noticed, half an hour later, when someone else left the airfield on a military-grade motorbike, his face obscured by a helmet visor. And even if they had noticed, they would never have guessed who he was, or what he meant – that a nightmare of the past was waking up in the present.

* * *

When the Seeds arrived at the Presidential Palace, the party was already well underway. President Laguna and his entourage had officially arrived an hour before, but for the Seeds to enter at the same time would have caused a diplomatic incident, according to Laguna's advisers, by insinuating that Estar viewed mercenary soldiers as a part of the government.

All things considered, it wasn't a good time to have a batch of paperwork shoved in your face by some pompous official.

Squall grabbed the pages, hoping they'd tear, and was disappointed. _Damn plastic-based paper..._ "What is it?"

"Legal documention, Commander." Squall was never fond of that last word, and the way this weasel said it sounded like an insult. "This is to confirm that none of your group will be acting in a official capacity tonight. Mercenaries are not required here, and no Seed activities will be permitted."

"So anyone attacks, we just let people get killed?" Said Seifer. "Fine by me. Too many worthless bastards here anyway."

Another thing Squall didn't like about the Commander title was that he couldn't get away with comments like that. At least, not in public. Well, not all time in public, anyway.

"We will take care of all the security arrangements." The official said stiffly. "Our staff are fully trained in that capacity, and can deal with all eventualities."

There were a few subtle coughs, a few not so subtle coughs, and some hollow laughs. Fully trained? The people here might be able to handle a few drunken punch-ups, but if anything serious happened, their security would collapse faster than origami sculpture hit by a water cannon.

Squall handed a copy to Quistis, and they both read through it quickly. It was exactly as the official had said, a signed agreement not to act as Seed within the building, or to take action in anything other than self-defence.

He confirmed it was genuine with Quistis, then handed the other copies around. "Everyone sign."

"What?" For once, Irvine and Seifer were in chorus.

"We don't have time to argue, and we're late already. Sign it. Now."

Seifer was the last, but Irvine signed almost straight away, immediately making Squall suspicious. Then he decided he was probably just being paranoid, and handed copies of the paperwork back to the official.

* * *

Now they were finally being allowed in, the Seeds were tired, hungry, and irritated. Especially Squall, and even more especially Seifer.

Waiting in the arrival queue, Seifer had no gunblade, almost nothing to distract him, and no patience at all. His line was moving the slowest, and he was getting more and more tempted to do something to clear the way – like setting fire to someone's head. He had a few spells handy, so...

The person in front moved, and Seifer was next to the window. He handed over his pass, scowling.

"Sorry." The guy at the window gave the pass a quick glance, then returned to his phone call. "This isn't validated."

"So?"

"So we can't let you in." The guy sighed. "It has to be validated first."

"So validate it." Seifer wasn't in the mood for this jumped-up little maggot to get in his way. He never was in that mood, of course, but today he was even less. "Now."

"I can't do that. You have to get your pass validated over there." The official pointed to a window the other side of the room, where the queue was three times as long.

"I'm going in." At this point, anyone who knew Seifer would have either drawn a weapon, or ran like hell. "Now."

"Now listen to me very carefully." The official turned condescending, like he was talking to a little kid. "I. Can't. Do. That. Go. To. The. Validation. Window."

The fuse had been lit. Seifer clenched his fists.

"Don't like that?" The official grinned. "Well, what are you going to do? Even if you did smuggle a weapon past security, which is impossible, this glass between us unbreakable. Any blade or bullet will just bounce off."

"Yeah?" Seifer channeled magic into his fists. "How about a lightning bolt?"

"Wha..."

* * *

An alarm buzzer went off at the main security checkpoint. The nearest guard picked up the headset, and listened. "OK, security breach at..."

"Stop." A senior guard interrupted. "That was point E, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"And how many security breaches have been reported from that area?"

"Three, but that doesn't mean..."

"And how many were genuine?"

"Well..."

"Less than one, yeah? We're not going there again. That jackass can play his jokes on someone else."

"But it sounded really convincing this time. It really sounded like people were getting beaten up, and glass breaking, and stuff."

"Sound effects? Next he'll get a mate of his to play at being the attacker."

"He already did. Good acting, though. It was really convincing, the shout of 'Validate THIS, MOTHERFU..." Cough. "Hello, General Caraway, how can we help?"

* * *

Everything seemed to be going well, so Squall was naturally worried. Selphie and Irvine were keeping each other occupied without breaking any public decency laws, Zell was busy stuffing his face by the food section, and Rinoa and her 'direct male relative' Caraway showed every sign of staying on opposite sides of the room from each other.

Squall wondered when he'd stopped seeing Caraway as Rinoa's father. Of course he never referred to him as that in front of her, even Zell wasn't stupid enough to do that, but that he'd stopped even thinking of him as her dad was strange. Shouldn't he be able to think of people how he liked? Couldn't he protect his own thoughts from other people?

But that was Rinoa. She always got past his defences, no matter what he tried. Right from the start...

Then he noticed Seifer was in a good mood.

"Quistis? How long has..."

"Seifer been smiling?" Quistis was making significant progress through a large glass of what appeared to be wine, but knowing her, was almost certainly some fruit cordial. Quistis only drank alcohol among those she trusted completely. "Since he arrived in the main hall."

"Have you...?"

"Checked for bodies? Of course, and there aren't any. Estoc confirmed every guest is here and accounted for. Of course, he was smirking at the time..."

Which meant that Estoc knew something they didn't, and wanted them to know he knew something they didn't. "So it's not a guest, and probably not security, or Estoc would be doing something about it." And there were more important things to worry about. "Leave it for now. What about Marcus? I can't help feeling there's something I forgot."

"We checked the plan thoroughly, and made sure he remembered it. What about getting here?"

"The bike has satellite navigation built-in, so he won't get lost. And he can handle almost any vehicle on a battlefield, so a few city roads on a motorbike aren't going to cause problems. What else could there be?"

"Traffic laws?"

"Crap."

* * *

Marcus still couldn't figure out the purpose of the sirens and flashing lights. An ambush was always the most efficient way to catch someone, so why would the law agents announce their presence first? Not that they could catch him anyway, but they could have got close enough to try...

As ordered, he hadn't shown his face since leaving the airfield, so the security squad of half a dozen already had their weapons drawn as he approached the perimeter.

"Helmet off. Now."

"I can't." Marcus kept his hands away from his sides, palms up. "Orders from General Estoc."

"Anyone can throw a name around." The leader replied. "Take your helmet off, or get yourself out. One or the other. Choose."

Marcus stopped next to a security terminal, and took off his left glove, moving slowly to keep the security officers calm. The leader's hand tightened on the trigger of his pistol, but the rest of the squad didn't react, probably because they couldn't see a weapon.

Their mistake. Marcus was a weapon, more than deadly enough to kill them all in seconds. The leader first, since he was a minor threat. The rest were just bodies.

He put his bare hand against the console, and the screen lit up. The screen on the other side of the perimeter chimed for attention.

"Sir? The palm print has been verified. General Estoc's personal authorization code."

"What?" The leader checked the screen. "Full access granted? Why would..."

"It all checks out, sir." One of the officers moved to the controls. "I'll let him in."

Marcus somehow resisted the impulse to clench his fists.

"NO!" The leader snapped. "We don't let him through! Not with that!"

The officer was lucky. If he'd opened the perimeter, Marcus would have broken him in half the instant he got within arm's length.

"But he's cleared security. We have to..."

"It's a computer file! Just a file! Remember the speech? All that digital security that fell apart without warning, a hacker that still hasn't been traced, and you're going to let someone through just because a computer tells you to?" The leader started pressing buttons on his comm headset. "You lower your gun before I tell you otherwise, you'd better hope he kills you before I do!"

They'd almost let him in. Without any knowledge of what he was. they'd almost let him in. He was the most efficient killing machine ever devised, and they'd almost let him in. Ellone was in there, and **they'd almost let him in**.

"General Estoc?" The leader began. "We have a security issue. An individual is refusing to show his face, and..." He went silent, listening. "Yes, his palm print did verify to grant him access. Yes, it did show your personal authorization code." He went quiet again. "Understood, General. I'll let him in, as soon as you fully confirm your identity."

"You can't talk that way to the General! Are you out of your..."

"You see this badge? It means you do what I tell you. You see this gun pointing at you? It means I don't like you. Now shut up." He listened to the call some more, then nodded. "Confirmed. Yes sir, I understand. At once." He turned to Marcus. "Whoever you are, you've got friends in high places. Go on through."

The barrier lifted. As Marcus walked into the main building, he overheard one of the guards saying to the leader "You shouldn't have done th..."

"Incorrect." Marcus stopped. "He should have done that. Letting anyone in without proof would have been stupid. And if you do it again, I'll kill you." He walked into the building.

"Well..." The leader's voice came from behind him. "That's a new one."

* * *

"He's arrived." Said Estoc. "Everything's set. Do you remember your lines?"

"Yeah." Squall was watching the target, Christopher Ferris. Everything the guy said was polished, a performance designed to win people over, make him everybody's friend.

Squall had never understood why anyone could be stupid enough to fall for that. Nobody could be a friend to everyone. You had to have an opinion on something, and there would always be someone who hated you for it. Or nearly everyone, in Squalls' case.

People seemed to like Ferris for it, though. He seemed like a natural politician, so obviously Squall loathed him on sight. And the crowd around him weren't any better, all of them typical sycophants and bootlickers... wait.

One of the Ferris crowd was different. He didn't speak much, hardly did anything, and seemed to have a permanent frown on his face. As for his suit, it seemed a little loose, which meant off the peg. Expensive, of course, but not individually tailored like everyone else in the group.

"Who's he?" He asked, not bothering to give details. Estoc would know who he was talking about anyway.

"Arthur Ferris." Estoc told him. "Christopher's younger brother, and a permanent board member of Ferris Industries. I don't know if you can call him the white sheep of the family, but he's certainly the nearest thing they've got. Which doesn't make him popular, to say the least."

"If he's an outcast, why is he here?"

"Outcast isn't exactly the word. The brothers never agree on anything, but... Arthur is practically the sole driving force behind the company expanding into related industries, such as high-grade metals, industrial explosives, and electronic hardware. He put his reputation and most of his company stake into the effort, but it more than paid off. Christopher was hoping he'd fail, and still wants an excuse to get rid of him, but so far, Arthur's never put a foot wrong."

"So he thinks his brother shouldn't be President of Esthar?"

"He thinks he's a fool for even trying, and that mixing business and politics is the worst kind of stupidity. He's always supported Laguna, although that's probably only because your father is the candidate with the lowest trade tariff and business tax proposals. And he hates his brother's aggressive stance with Galbadia."

"So he's anti-war?"

"Not really, just pro-trade. Some of the businesses he's responsible for are taking a growing slice of the Galbadian export market, and Arthur doesn't want that jeopardized just so his brother can act tough and start a war. I don't think he actually likes Galbadians, but he'd like to keep taking their money."

"So why isn't he in charge of Ferris Industries?" Squall asked. "If he's that good at business..."

"Well, their father was the very traditional sort, so as the eldest son, Christopher was automatically set to inherit the majority shareholding. Although... Most people were expecting Christopher to be disinherited. He was too wild, too reckless, using family connection to get away with crimes and scandal far too often. There were rumours, fairly well substantiated, that their father had finally decided to name Arthur as the rightful heir."

"Let me guess." Said Squall. "Dad died just a little too early, right?"

"Exactly."

"And Christopher gets everything?" Squall couldn't believe it. "You let that happen? Isn't there something to prevent that? The law, for instance?"

"Yes, I know the term." Estoc sighed. "And the law requires something called evidence. Which we don't have. We tried everything, searched everywhere. Even got Arthur to help us. But we couldn't find anything, not even a trace. And no matter how convenient his father's death might have been, there's nothing to charge Christopher with murder. Especially when he can easily afford the finest lawyers in Esthar for his defence."

So a warmongering murderer was one step from the Presidency of Esthar. Squall could feel his quiet, peaceful and uncomplicated days slipping away. "So what do you think?"

"Well... There is a slight possibility that the death could be natural, but I don't believe that. It has to be murder, but to kill him without leaving any evidence, Christopher must have hired a very good assassin, one of the best in the world. Which means the payment would have been immense. Getting that amount of money together wouldn't be a problem for the CEO of Ferris Industries, of course, but we should have found some trace of the transaction by now... Unless I'm missing something..."

"Whatever." Squall gave up on the subject. If Christopher Ferris could cover his tracks from General Estoc, then Seed probably wasn't going to be much help at this stage.

"Okay." Estoc nodded. "Marcus is within range, and Laguna and the Presidential entourage is moving near Christopher. Let's see if Ferris takes the bait."

"And here he is!" Christopher's voice carried to all corners of the hall. "Our esteemed President, who tries so hard to make peace with our enemies, only to be betrayed time and time again." A smirk of contempt. "Perhaps he would care to illuminate us on his latest activities? While every Estharian citizen is rightfully concerned about the growing threat from Galbadian warmongers, how can he think allowing their spies to roam free within our borders is anything but an abject surrender? Are we to become the puppets of his home nation?"

"Home nation?" Laguna shrugged. "I was only born in Galbadia because my mother missed the connecting flight to Balamb. If the contractions had been a bit later, my home nation could have been Transcontinental Airways." Some of the crowd laughed. "And why would spies be free in Esthar? General Estoc's pretty good at stopping that sort of thing."

"Then how do you explain what happened at the speech?" Christopher was pushing his advantage – or so he thought. "Terrorists running rampant, and your dependence on independent mercenaries for security. Who knows where Balamb Garden's loyalties truly lie? They work for money, so they'll just sell us out to the highest bidder! And even their best operatives were almost unable to stop a Galbadian spy, just a single Galbadian spy, from killing everyone! How can we trust..."

Squall decided to cut in at that point. "You're sure he's a Galbadian spy?"

"What?"

"You say he's a Galbadian spy. Do you have evidence to back up that claim? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, mercenary. And we have considerable evidence that he is a spy, sent by the Galbadian government."

"Really?" Said Squall. "Because we have absolute proof he isn't." He waved his arm in the prearranged signal, and Marcus approached. His jumpsuit would have given away his identity on sight, so he was wearing motorbike leathers over it, gloves and boots, as well as the helmet with the visor down. "This is an agent of ours. He knows the man is not a Galbadian spy, and he can prove it."

"And we're supposed to believe him?" Christopher sneered. "You think we're that stupid? You're paying him to lie for you!"

"No, that's what we used to pay him for. But not any more." Said Squall. "And his evidence is very convincing. Everyone here will agree." He paused. "Even you."

Christopher looked confused. This wasn't playing out like he'd expected.

But Squall was just getting started. "May I present one of Balamb Garden's finest Deep Cover agents..." He gestured, and Marcus took off his helmet. "Marcus Kensai."

The effect was immediate. Gasps of shock and horror echoed all around them as the crowds shrank back. Marcus stared looked around with his usual impassive mask, not reacting at all.

Squall saw the shock on Christopher's face, and pressed the attack. "You only got one part right, Ferris. You said he was a spy. Well, he is. One of our spies! We sent him to infiltrate the Adelist terrorist group! He was working for us the whole time, and you blew his cover!"

"But... He didn't..."

"Didn't act like he was on our side? THAT'S THE POINT!" Squall wasn't sure if his anger towards this jumped-up little maggot was acting or not. Not that he cared. "He arrived here from Balamb with a fake identity, and a personal history that would make him seem... _sympathetic_ to the Adelist cause."

"That's a lie!" Christopher was losing his temper, and everyone could see it. His public image was going down fast. "Nobody at the speech knew about him! He caught the security agents completely by surprise!"

"Actually, the Seed agents knew about him." Estoc interrupted them. "But nobody else in Esthar did. To infiltrate the Adelist organisation, we requested the best long-term undercover agent Balamb Garden had. The identity of the agent was kept classified, in the interests of security."

"You paid a mercenary to snoop around, and you didn't even know who he was?"

"We didn't need to know who he was." Estoc shrugged. "Marcus helped us prevent many terrorist attacks, bombings and assassinations. His information was always reliable and accurate."

"And I thought he was a she." Said Laguna. "Guess I lost that bet."

Some of the audience laughed at that. Not many, but it was a start.

"And are we expected to believe that?" Christopher was shocked, but recovering fast. He wasn't out of the game yet. "Your agents tried to kill him at the speech!"

"So it seems. According to the video footage, Zell Dincht almost broke his body in half, fractured two of his limbs, and caused enough injuries to kill any normal person twice over. And yet..." Squall paused, and spoke slowly, treating the older Ferris just like an ignorant child. "Can you see any trace of his injuries now? He's in perfect health, despite breaking out of a securely guarded military hospital. Now, how could he have recovered so fast? Did we suddenly find some undiscovered and fully operation medical technology capable of performing miracles? Or were his injuries, and the fight, all fake?"

"But... why?"

"Perhaps I could explain that." Estoc was perfectly calm. "The Adelists were fighting amongst themselves more and more often, mostly because of our success in containing them, and a splinter group had recently formed. As the two factions were enemies, Marcus was unable to provide any data on the splinter group, and as the main group was becoming more suspicious of him, he could only inform us of the attack at the speech at the last minute. The plan was to wipe out the main group as a priority, then use Marcus as bait to draw the splinter group into the open."

"How did you know they wouldn't just kill him?"

"We didn't." Marcus stated flatly. "But it was an opportunity to wipe out the Adelist threat permanently, so the risks were acceptable. It was what I was hired to do, so I did it."

"Of course, we had to move fast." Estoc continued. "We couldn't give the splinter group time to think, so he had to break out of hospital while they were still desperate to strike back. And since we couldn't reveal he was working for us, he had to escape all by himself. Which he did, although his methods might be seen as somewhat... excessive."

"I didn't kill anyone." Said Marcus, right on cue as they'd rehearsed dozens of time in the Ragnarok. "I followed your orders. And it had to look genuine."

"It was certainly genuine, yes." Estoc smiled ruefully. "Multiple concussions and broken limbs for almost every guard that got in your way, very convincing. Still, I'm sure they'll appreciate their sacrifice was for the safety of Esthar... once they're out of intensive care, anyway."

"The splinter group took the bait." Squall continued. "Once they were convinced he was an independent, Marcus was a tempting target, either for brainwashing him into a convert or interrogating him for information. Probably both. They started torturing him before they left Esthar, but once we got a fix on his position, we attacked with the Ragnarok."

"And now the splinter group's dead too." Finished Laguna. "No more Adelists. No more problems from that quarter, ever again."

"But because you couldn't keep your mouth shut about your crackpot theories, now everyone knows who he is!" Squall snapped. "No Deep Cover agent can ever reveal their identity to the public, and your paranoid ranting put his face all across the papers and the news channels! He's too well known to ever stay undercover now! One of our best Deep Cover agents, forced to resign! Because of you."

"That seems rather harsh, don't you think?" Arthur seemed quite cheerful, not that he could be anything else after seeing his brother getting his ass kicked in public. "He did the job, no?"

"It's not dismissal." Said Squall. "Just reassignment. He's joining Balamb Garden as a regular, as well as taking the position of Close Combat Instructor. I'm sure you're all aware of his skills in that area." Squall let the information sink in.

Before long, a voice piped up. "One of the best?"

"What?"

"You said he was one of your best Deep Cover agents." A pause. "So he's not the best?"

Squall pretended to consider that, then shook his head. "There isn't a best agent overall. Marcus had the skills that were best suited to this mission, so he was the best choice. In a different situation, another agent might have better skills than him."

Squall enjoyed the shocked looks on the faces of the people around him. They'd been confronted by something they'd never expected, a division of Balamb Garden they'd never even suspected to exist. And now, every one of them was worried – about how many Deep Cover agents were out there, and if any could be spying on them, right now. So they'd all suspect their rivals of hiring a Deep Cover agent, and when they didn't find any proof, they'd get even more paranoid their suspicions were correct.

He was beginning to understand why Estoc had found this so amusing. Lying to people wasn't something he liked much, but watching them lie to themselves was far better.

"Impressive." Arthur Ferris was smiling. "And he certainly doesn't look Galbadian. But he doesn't look like a Balamb native, either, so I'm curious. Where exactly is he from?"

"Ask his parents." Said Squall.

"And they are?"

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "I never met them."

"What?"

"What Marcus is trying to say" Quistis interrupted with a cough. "Is that he has no memories about his parents. He was just abandoned, when he was just a week old. We think his parents must be dead, but nobody really knows anything."

Squall stepped back as Quistis expanded on the Centran's fake background. The audience were eating it up, of course. A dark and mysterious person that saved the People's Princess, Ellone Loire? They couldn't get enough of it.

* * *

Once the initial buzz had died down, Quistis got Marcus away from everyone as fast as possible. It wasn't a good idea to let the Estharian high society talk to the Centran until... well, okay, it just wasn't a good idea. But it was unavoidable at some point, so they had to teach Marcus to develop his social skills to the point where... well, to the point he had social skills, anyway. And they had to teach him fast.

With Rinoa's help, of course. As the daughter of General Caraway, one of the most important people in Galbadia, so she'd been involved in public society before she could walk. And Selphie... was there as well.

"You have to learn to make small talk with people." Quistis began. "To talk about everyday things. Not about violence, or killing people."

"But that's all I know."

"We've noticed." Said Quistis. "But you can't say that. You have to talk with people normally, ask about their likes and dislikes, what they been doing recently, things like that."

"So I need to talk about things that are empty and meaningless?"

"Don't say that either." Said Rinoa. "Don't ever say that. Let's try a dress rehearsal. I'll start. Ready?"

"No."

"Too bad. Go!" Rinoa adopted a flouncy, gushing attitude, and sauntered closer. "I thought I recognised you. Aren't you Marcus Kensai?"

"Yes, that is my name." Marcus deadpanned. "And it was announced to everyone, so you should already know that. Are you deaf?"

"You can stop there." Quistis pulled the Centran to one side. "That's something else you're not supposed to say."

"We should start making a list." Rinoa muttered. "Honestly, 'are you deaf?' Why the hell did you say that?"

"They announced my name and appearance to everyone here." Said Marcus, in his usual state -or continent- of confusion. "She should know who I am without asking, so..."

"She'll be nervous, you moron!" Rinoa exploded. "Everyone's going to be nervous when they approach you! They've all seen the videos of you turning armed terrorists into mince! What do you expect?"

"You shouldn't insult anyone, Marcus." Quistis was trying to stay calm. "And don't say anything that could be taken as an insult, either. You have to be calm and reassuring."

"Couldn't we say he lost his voice?" Selphie piped up.

"No! He has to talk to people sooner or later. We can't give up yet."

"And everyone already heard him talk." Rinoa pointed out.

"Yes, that as well. Now try it again."

"So, you're a Seed at Balamb Garden." Rinoa tried again.

"Yes." Silence.

"That must be dangerous."

"Yes, it is." More silence.

"Time out." Quistis called. "Marcus, you're doing better, but you need to be more proactive. No one word answers, okay? Don't just answer their questions, expand on them a little. Keep the conversation flowing. Got it?" She didn't wait for an answer, as she was fairly sure it wouldn't help. "Time in!"

"So..." Rinoa sighed. "When you fought at the speech, that must have been dangerous. Weren't you scared?"

"Why would I be scared?" Said Marcus. "I have always expected to die in battle, and I have never cared enough about my existence to fear it's end. And their numbers was not enough of an advantage to threaten me. Only a few could get to me at first, and once I gutted them open, their comrades were so shocked at all the blood and gore that their defences were..."

"STOP!" Quistis noticed everyone suddenly staring at her. "What are you doing? You don't talk about gutting people as part of polite conversation! Normal people don't talk about that! Even mercenaries like us don't talk about that! Everyone here will avoid you like the plague!"

"Don't tell Squall." Rinoa muttered. "Don't want him getting ideas..."

"I've got a few silence spells." Selphie cut in. "I could..."

"No!" Quistis snapped. "We're not giving up. We can do this. We just need a different approach." She turned to Marcus. "Whenever anyone tries to talk to you tonight, you have to reassure them that you're not just a ruthless killing machine. That you're not all that bad, and there's a different side to what you've already shown."

"So you want me to lie to them?"

"Yes." Quistis deadpanned. "I want you to lie to everyone, because that's the only way you'll ever be approachable by anyone remotely normal. Got it? Good. Now begin the conversation again."

Rinoa didn't look optimistic, but then again, who would? "After what happened at the speech, people are saying you're just a killer. That's not true, is it?"

"No. I..." Marcus was struggling.

_Come on._ Quistis made encouraging motions. _Keep going. You're almost there!_

"I only commit acts of genocide under extreme circumstances."

In the silence that followed, Quistis was dimly aware of a glass smashing on the floor, then realised her glass of fruit cordial was missing from her hand.

Rinoa nudged Selphie. "Cast the spell. We'll all swear it was an accident."

* * *

Ellone excused herself from the latest political figures wanting to pose with her for a photo opportunity. Being the 'People's Princess' of Esthar was a constant irritation, like a lead weight hanging around her neck. She didn't even know who to blame for starting the phrase, it just appeared out of nowhere, and everyone had started using it, so it stuck.

The press attention should have been short-lived. When she'd returned to Esthar with her true identity revealed as the step-daughter of President Laguna (they'd had to give the public a reason for her disappearance, and they couldn't reveal her powers of time and memory manipulation), it propelled her to celebrity status. She'd done her best to ignore it, waiting for it to die down, just using her fame to draw attention to a few things she felt shouldn't be overlooked, like a children's charity that was about to close down through lack of funds.

That was when the problems started. An instant celebrity who refused to use their fame for selfish reasons was apparently a novelty, so she remained in the public eye for a little while longer. But that would have faded soon enough, if they hadn't tried digging into her past, probably while looking for a scandal.

All they'd found was a life that seemed ordinary, but with more hardship than most. The loss of her parents (who she didn't even remember), then her stepmother Raine dying in childbirth, her capture by the Sorceress Adel... it all came out. The press had a field day, her celebrity status went from minor to major, and more than a few people had started getting jealous, wanting to destroy her image in the public eye.

Of course, Ellone wanted that as well. In fact, she would have helped them if they'd asked, although they didn't, for obvious reasons. But she still didn't understand why they'd done something so stupid as starting a smear campaign. Her denials made her supporters actively lobby for a public enquiry, which was eventually granted, resulting in all the accusations against her being proven false.

All of which made her more popular than ever. Everybody was pestering her now, always wanting her support for this or that. Knowing she only had a few seconds, she desperately looked around to find a safe group to join before she was approached by even more suck-ups, but everyone she knew had either disappeared somewhere, or were already dealing with suck-ups of their own.

Then she saw Marcus, standing at a food table with everyone else keeping a considerable distance. His cover story may have been accepted, but after seeing the video of him fighting, nobody wanted to get too close.

Which suited Ellone fine. "Hello, Marcus. How are you settling in?"

Marcus shrugged – or tried to. The gesture seemed oddly out of place.

"What are you doing?" She wondered why he wasn't eating anything. "Hungry?"

Marcus thought for a moment, then shook his head, pointing at several plates of food in quick succession.

"What?" Ellone couldn't understand him. It wasn't like Marcus to be rude... Well, actually, it was like Marcus to be extremely rude. Most of the time, really. But it was always the crass, blundering, ignorant kind of rudeness, never the insulting, deliberately offensive kind of rudeness. "Is something wrong?"

Marcus pointed to his throat, made 'magic' gestures, then pointed to his throat again while shutting his mouth.

"A silence spell? Who would...?" It had to be someone he knew, or the Centran would be dripping with blood, none of it his. That left very few suspects, the most likely being... "Selphie?"

Marcus nodded.

"But why would... never mind." She took out a vial of Elixir, the general purpose cure-all that General Estoc had insisted she (and everyone else linked to the Estharian government) carried at all times in case of poisoning, curse spells, and other emergencies. "Drink this."

"Thank you." Said Marcus, a short time later.

"No problem. So if you're not hungry, why are you interested in the food?"

"Your food is different. I must get used to it, but I do not know where to start."

The dishes were recipes and foodstuffs from all over the world, but nothing as dangerous as the vomit-inducing 'nutrient paste' from the Centran base. "Just choose something at random. I don't think you'll have any problems... NOT THAT ONE!" She grabbed his hand as it reached for the Inferno Vindaloo, a curry that even Zell treated with respect, and was advertised with the slogan 'any hotter and your breath would ignite'. "Don't eat that. Just don't."

Marcus nodded, and reached for the chicken pasta.

"That's fine... Oh no. Not her." The woman approaching was the third worst person she wanted to meet right now – and considering the first two were the Sorceresses Ultimecia and Adel, that was saying quite a lot. "I'll deal with this, Marcus. Just stay here, and try not to draw any attention."

As she left, Marcus wondered if the curry was booby-trapped...

* * *

"Jessica? What are you doing?" Ellone caught her before she got to Marcus. "Don't cause a scene. This isn't the time..."

"What's the matter, Loire? Worried I might steal your latest toy away?"

"No." _I'm worried he'll drop kick your head through a fourth-floor window._ "But he's not a toy, and he's not someone you can control." Even before Ellone said it, she knew her self-proclaimed 'biggest rival', wouldn't listen. Apparently, Jessica had been number one in the idle celebrity stakes, famous for being famous, until Ellone arrived on the scene after the second Sorceress War and knocked her down to number two. Then the stories had come out about Jessica being a complete bitch someti... well, pretty much all the time she was off camera, and her status had sank like a stone.

And of course, she'd blamed Ellone for all of it.

"What would you know? You're just an ignorant farm girl with a camera friendly smile. You've forgotten who you're dealing with."

"I haven't forgotten what happened when you went after Squall. Remember how that turned out?" Ellone ignored Jessica's glare, and continued. "This won't turn out any better, and could very easily be worse. I know you want revenge, but doing this won't get you anywhere. You can't charm him, or use him. Just this once, back down. Please?"

"You think you know about men?" Jessica sneered. "Do you even know what seduction means? After hanging around people like you, I'm not surprised he hasn't met a woman he wants."

_He did meet a woman he wanted. Then she got murdered, and you're going to remind him of the girl who killed her. _"You're not..."

Jessica shoved past her, and headed straight for Marcus. Ellone watched, suddenly thinking of a petrol tanker about to crash into a fireworks factory. Knowing this was a disaster, and unable to think of anything to stop it.

* * *

"Hello there." Came an unfamiliar voice behind him.

Marcus spun round instantly. Anything unknown had to be confronted, and if necessary dealt with, as soon as possible.

"Hello." His reply was automatic, but the woman did not seem to be a threat. Her dress was tight around her body and severely restricted her movements, so she clearly had no hidden weapons or martial arts techniques.

"Well?" She seemed to have noticed his appraisal, and seemed pleased.

Marcus turned away, unsure of how to remove this irrelevance. Maybe Ellone would know, so he started moving towards her.

"Hey!" Jessica grabbed his arm, and Marcus was an instant away from throwing her onto the food table before he restrained the impulse. "Don't you want to talk to me?" She tried to pull him back.

* * *

Ellone watched as Marcus effortlessly dragged Jessica across the floor towards her. "Is this a threat?" He asked, pointing.

"What?" Screeched Jessica. "You dare to..."

"No, not a threat." Ellone sighed. "Well... not really... sort of. She certainly isn't going to attack you. Not that she could, without any weapons."

"She could have swallowed a bomb."

"WHAT?" The volume went higher. "Why would I swallow a bomb?"

"Negative calories?" Okay, that comment was petty, and beneath Ellone. Fun though. "Ready to give up, Jessica? In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't like you. He'll never like you. So why not..."

Jessica's fist suddenly appeared in front of her eyes, but a hand was already holding it back.

Marcus wrenched the arm in a circle, forcing Jessica to her knees. "Raise a hand to her again, and I remove the arm attached. Clear?"

"Let go, you bast..." Jessica screamed as Marcus rotated the arm further. "You do not give me orders."

"I think she got the message, Marcus." Said Ellone, not believing a word of what she was saying. "You can let go now."

Marcus shoved Jessica back. "Leave. Now."

Jessica's scowl deepened as she looked back and forth between them, but even she had to know she couldn't win.

Ellone watched her leave. "She'll come back. Maybe we should keep an eye on her."

"Why?" Said Marcus. "She is irrelevant."

"Well, when you relax and let your guard down, she might..." Of course, Marcus never let his guard down. Even now, he was acting like the place could erupt into a war zone any second. "Okay, maybe not. But she could put something in a drink that would..." _A drug affecting Marcus?_ He'd broken out of a secure military hospital with anaesthetic in his veins to kill anything smaller than a Red Dragon. "Well, that wouldn't work on you either, but she has a lot of contacts that could..." _Damage his reputation?_ Marcus wouldn't even notice. "Okay, she can't really do anything to you. But she'll try anyway. She's not the type to do anything else."

"Then I will deal with her."

"Just don't kill her. Even if she attacks you. And don't break her limbs or beat her unconscious, unless you have to."

"What if she's armed?"

Ellone's imagination quickly supplied a grisly mental image of what could happen if somebody pulled a toy gun on Marcus and shouted 'Bang!'. It wasn't pretty, or suitable for under 18's. "Make sure it's a real weapon first. And if someone says something about you, check with me before you do anything drastic."

"Understood." Said Marcus. "I have heard lots of things I don't understand."

"That's fine. And don't worry about taking up a lot of my time." _Which you will._

"Confirmed."

Ellone took a glass of wine from a server.

"So what does 'eye candy' mean?"

Ellone choked on her drink.

* * *

Seifer's good mood at beating the crap out of the ticket attendant was rapidly wearing off. For starters, he was constantly being watched. Not just by that Estoc, but the Seeds were doing it in shifts.

The latest was Quistis. At least she wasn't trying to play innocent, but it still set his teeth on edge. "Can't you back off for five minutes? You think I'm going to start a fight?"

"I was thinking you've done that already." Snapped Quistis. "And I don't like watching you either, but it has to be done. Seed has to be seen as professional. One outburst from you could destroy our reputation."

"Yeah, that's all you care about." The remnants of Seifer's good mood had vanished completely. "Bet you hated it when that old fart of a headmaster ordered you to take me back in to Balamb, right?"

"Actually, headmaster Cid only suggested the idea. The decision was put to a vote among the senior Seed members."

"And you got outvoted?" Seifer couldn't believe it. "Who the hell voted for me?"

"That's classified." Quistis scowled.

"Figures."

"But the casting vote was mine."

"What?" Seifer couldn't believe it. "Doesn't that mean..."

"That I decided the outcome? Yes, Mr Almasy, that is exactly what it means. And right now, I wish I hadn't voted the way I did. And I'm going to get someone else to keep an eye on you, since I've had enough of your complaints."

"You voted to..."

"People make mistakes, Siefer. And mistakes don't come any bigger than what you did!" Quistis snapped. "You want to be trusted, then you have to earn that trust! You don't like that? Tough. Deal with it." She turned, and started walking away. "Like everyone else has to."

For a moment, Seifer almost thought she was making it up. But he knew she wasn't. Quistis was many things he hated – Stuck up, bossy, overbearing, straitlaced, arrogant... But never a liar. "Look, I'm... well, I guess I... I'm sor..."

Quistis kept walking.

"Hey, wait!"

Quistis still kept walking.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Quistis didn't respond, and Seifer's temper exploded. "I'M TRYING TO APOLOGIZE, YOU DUMB BITCH!"

* * *

Irvine watched Quistis kick Seifer in the balls, just as he'd expected. Hell, even Squall could apologise better than that...

As Quistis stormed off, he walked over to Seifer, who was hunched over on his knees, tears in his eyes and hands over his groin. "Don't rub 'em just yet, Seifer. Count 'em first. Trust me."

* * *

Sadly, even with Ellone trying to avoid attention, she still had to circulate around the rooms and talk to people. Still, she thought leaving Marcus alone for a few minutes wouldn't be a total disaster.

Then Jessica stood in her way with a vicious smirk, and Ellone realised she was about to be proved very, very wrong.

"Worried about your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend. And I'm not worried." Ellone realised the last part wasn't entirely honest. She did worry about Marcus, but not about anything happening to him here. She was worried about what it could lead to. Whatever happened tonight, he'd come out unharmed. Nothing here could hurt him... not physically, anyway. But if he was ever going to change, to find some purpose in life beyond fighting an endless war, then people needed to accept him. And if an incident tonight stopped that happening, it could ruin everything.

She realised from the buzzing in her ears that Jessica was talking. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

Jessica looked like she might explode. "I'm saying I'm not impressed by the videos of your boyfriend fighting against those so-called 'terrorists'. They were faked, right? I can tell. And I'll bet people won't think so much of your boyfriend when they see how weak he is fighting against a real man."

"I told you, he's not my boyfriend... Wait, what?" Ellone felt her blood turning to ice. "What have you done?"

* * *

There was someone blocking his way. Marcus didn't recognise who it was, but they were a head taller than him, which was unusual, not that it mattered. He was very muscular, far more than Marcus was, although that didn't concern Marcus either. He'd killed people bigger and stronger than him as a child, and they'd died just as easily as the rest.

His posture was meant to be impressive. But the man's arms folded in front of his chest only made him slower to block, and his stance was wide, making it easier to knock him down. Marcus saw the opportunity for several strikes before he could even unfold his arms.

But he couldn't do that. He had his orders, and Ellone had told him he shouldn't, so he would not. He turned around, and walked away.

A few steps, and a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. Reflexes sparked, and he knocked the arm away before he had the time to think.

"Not bad." Said the man who'd blocked his way. "So there's some fight in you after all."

The man was clearly an idiot. Attacking, yet not ready to fight for his life. Acting aggressive, with nothing but his image to support him. Appearance was not reality, was no protection.

"But not enough to pick a fight with me." The man grabbed Marcus by the hand, and started to squeeze. "I know your type. Acting all tough when you're supported, but weak when you're on your own."

Marcus felt the considerable pressure trying to crush his hand. The man had bigger muscles then he did, and they weren't just for show.

But the man was human, and so were his muscles. Marcus was GEC, designed to be the ultimate weapon of the Centran Empire, and had never been bound by such human limitations.

He squeezed back, and the man's face went white. "I have no type. I am one. I am alone. There is no other like me. And if you knew what I was..." He squeezed harder. "You would run, screaming in terror."

The man tore his hand free. "You're threatening me? Do you know who you're dealing with?"

"Yes." Said Marcus. "I am dealing with someone who could never be a threat to me." And he turned, ignoring that person entirely.

Then the insults started, calling him a freak, a mutant, a monster. None were original, and the man soon started repeating himself. That arrogant fighter, Seifer, had far better insults. Not that it mattered. Marcus didn't care who called him an inhuman freak, the same way as he didn't care who said he had black hair, or two arms. To deny reality was a waste of time. He knew what he was.

The voice was almost just a background noise in the distance when he heard her name.

"Who does that bitch Ellone need protecting from, anyway? Her customers?"

This was the first thing he'd said that Marcus didn't understand. Did Ellone work in some kind of shop?

"Everyone knows she's a whore. Must have slept with every Seed in Balamb Gard..." The man suddenly stopped talking, as people tend to do when a fist slams into their teeth.

* * *

"A boxer?"

"Yes." Jessica smiled. "A rising star among the heavyweights. Could be a future world champion. And your boy hasn't got his sword. Worried now?"

Ellone remembered Typhon, the greatest warrior of the Centran Empire, said to be the best in the world. Marcus was almost dead on his feet when Typhon challenged him to a one on one fight, and Marcus had thrown him off a cliff. Right now, Marcus was well rested, in perfect health (physically, anyway) and his opponent was... a boxer.

"He'll kill him."

"Oh, I don't think he'll go that far. He's quite obedient, really. He'll do whatever..."

"Marcus will kill him! Call him off! Now! Before it's..." There was a crash behind her, and someone screaming. "Too late."

* * *

Squall quickly arrived at the scene, to find Irvine and Zell already there, watching the fight with food and beer at hand. "What happened?"

"Big guy tried to pick a fight with Marcus." Said Irvine.

"Didn't look like anything was gonna happen." Zell shrugged. "Then Marcus just lost it all of a sudden. Guy must have pushed the right button."

"Or the wrong one." Squall looked at the fight, where the Centran seemed to be making a serious attempt to pound the other guy's head through the floor. "All he had to do was control himself, and he hasn't even been here an hour! Why can't he..."

"Well?" The official they'd met when they'd come in had started shouting. "What are you waiting for? Aren't you supposed to be used to these sorts of situations?"

"Yes, we are." Said Squall. "But we couldn't possibly intervene with a situation which isn't our responsibility. Keeping security here is your responsibility, that was the agreement. I have the signed documents here." He took out the paperwork and pretended to glance at it, then stopped pretending when he saw one of the signatures. It was mostly unreadable, but he had a sneaking suspicion it actually read _Ivor Biggun_. "So it's your problem."

"But he's one of your Seeds! It's your responsibility to keep him under control!"

"Actually, he isn't." Quistis joined the conversation. "We've dismissed him as a Deep Cover agent, but we haven't enrolled him in Balamb Garden yet, so he's actually unemployed. As a result, we're not responsible for his actions."

"So he's your problem." Said Squall. "Good luck."

"You think we can't handle this? That we're helpless without your assistance?"

"Did I say that?"

"Fine." The official barked orders to his security entourage, and four of them heading to the fight, one hefting a large electrified stun baton. "My four best officers can easily deal with this."

"Sure they can." There was the crack of an electric discharge, then a scream of rage, and Squall wasn't the least bit surprised at seeing a body fly through the air, smack into a pillar and then collapse unconscious on the floor. "Three of them, anyway."

"What? How did he..." The official stopped. "A GF? You brought a linked Guardian Force in here?"

"Of course not. Why would we give a Guardian Force to someone who isn't a Seed?" Said Squall. "And all of our GF's are fully accounted for. Isn't that right, Quistis?"

"Of course, Commander." Quistis played along. "None of our Guardian Forces are at this location, junctioned or not."

"Pretending it's not yours?" He scowled. "Then you won't mind if we take it!"

"Ummm..." Someone tapped the official on the shoulder. "We can't do that, Sir."

"You can't limit the GF?"

"We can't find the GF. There's nothing there to draw away. He doesn't even have any magic, let alone a Guardian Force."

"He has to be junctioned! You saw what he did!"

"Until today, he worked undercover." Squall cut in. "You do understand what that means, right?" He watched them suddenly panic, as they realised that Seed agents could now (apparently) hide their junctioned GF's. At least Marcus was good for something.

More security agents went in to subdue Marcus, and a few more bodies crashed to the floor unconscious. Marcus had already managed to knock back the security mob a few times, but he kept wasting the advantage by repeatedly kicking the unconscious body of the guy who'd started the fight until they caught up with him again.

* * *

"What the hell is he?" Jessica screeched. "Some kind of wild animal?"

Ellone ignored her, wondering how everything had gotten messed up so fast. She'd only left Marcus alone for a couple of minutes...

"He's insane! You invited some crazy monster here? What were you think..."

To Ellone, it felt like a time jump. One instant, she was annoyed, and the next, her hand had already slapped Jessica in the face. "This is your fault."

Jessica's mouth hung open, and Ellone continued. "You made someone pick a fight with him, just to make yourself feel better! For once, why couldn't you think about someone other than yourself?" She tried to calm down. "And you have no right to speak of him like that! You have no idea who he is, what he's been through, how much he's had to endure his entire life! If you even saw a fraction of what he's had to face..." She shook her head. "You'd go insane. Literally. Now get out of here. I have to sort this out."

She headed for the fight, trying to look confident while realising she had no idea what she was doing. Maybe she could improvise.

The security guards had established a perimeter, holding people back at a safe distance. She approached one of them. "Hello. Could you please let me through?"

"Ms Loire?" The guard looked surprised., and she didn't blame him. "This is a very dangerous situation! You shouldn't be anywhere near here! We're containing the situation, but you have to move back to a safe distance!"

"Containing him isn't something you can do, and he wouldn't hurt me anyway. Look, I know him. I can help you calm things down."

"Ma'am, you're not security, you're not Seed. This situation is too dangerous for you to get involved in. And if I let you through and you got hurt, your dad would post various parts of my body to all four corners of Esthar! I can't let you..."

"LOOK OUT!" Screamed Ellone, pointing over his shoulder. The guard automatically looked behind him, and Ellone ducked under his arm and rushed past. She'd apologize later.

She stepped around the unconscious body of a huge guy she vaguely remembered from a sunglasses advert, and stopped next to a mound of struggling bodies. Security had apparently managed to knock Marcus down for a second, then all dived on top of him. This seemed to be working for the moment, although judging by all the thrashing about, wasn't going to work for much longer.

_Now what?_ She couldn't think of anything, except... "Marcus! Stop that RIGHT NOW!"

The fighting stopped, the mound was suddenly frozen in place, and everything went deathly quiet. And all of the security guards were looking at her.

"Ummm..." Ellone began. "Everything okay now, right? He won't cause any more trouble, so you can get up, and... well, we can all calm down and relax, okay? I'll help you up." She extended a hand, and the nearest guard flinched back like it was a red hot poker.

_What's that for? I'm not dangerous. All I did was..._ Then she realised. The full contingent of security officers had tried everything they had to stop Marcus, and the Centran had been wiping the floor with them. Then she'd stopped him, **by telling him to in a stern voice**.

She cringed. At this point, it was fair to say her attempts at avoiding publicity were not going according to plan.

The last of the security guards left, and then Marcus stood up. He looked in better shape than everyone he'd been fighting, and not only was his jumpsuit untorn, there wasn't even a frayed thread anywhere in sight. Centran fabrics clearly had their advantages.

"Did you have to do that?" She asked. "Couldn't you have just walked away?"

"I did." Said Marcus. "He followed."

"So he attacked you?" Maybe the fight wasn't his fault after all.

"No. I attacked him." A pause. "But he said..."

"You hit him because he insulted you?" She sighed. "You can't hit someone just for calling you names! Just ignore them, or you'll... Oh, great." The police were coming in, and heading straight for them. "She called the police? I don't believe this!"

"Should we get away from them?"

"Well, of course! But we can't just..." She realised her mistake just before Marcus grabbed her arm and ran for the rear exit. "Wait!"

There was some shouting behind them, but Ellone was more concerned about what was happening in front. Someone slammed the exit door shut, then stood in front to block it with their body.

She couldn't believe anyone could be that stupid. "Please get out of the way! Please..." There was a crash, the door barged open, and Ellone just avoiding stepping on someone's face. "Sorry! Accident!"

Down a few corridors, and the manned security barrier was the only thing in their way. Ellone tried to slow down. "Marcus, that's enough. You can't start another fight. Not here. And there is no way I can jump over that, so..." Marcus slowed down suddenly, and as she bumped into him, there was an instant when she believed he was acting rationally.

Then he swept her off her feet and carried her in front of him, and her illusion was shattered. "Stop! You can't just..."

But he could. Marcus was heavier than he looked, but he still jumped up while carrying her without any trouble at all, landing with one foot on top of the barrier, and jumping off again.

She noticed camera flashes going off as he landed, sprinting down the steps, and struggled to think of how things could have possibly gotten any worse.

Then she remembered how she'd decided against wearing a shorter skirt tonight. It was a small consolation, but when you'd escaped from a diplomatic function, breaking through impassable security while being carried in the arms of your great grandmothers childhood friend, any consolation was pretty much a godsend.

**Wise words for anyone in that situation – not that it happens very often, though. Ellone and Marcus are out of the party and free to wander around Esthar, while Squall, Rinoa and the rest of the crew are stuck making social conversation and being polite. Anyone want to guess who'll explode first? Marcus also learns about the last stand of General Nathan, and meets a face from the past while he's on A Night Out...**


	18. A Night Out

**And on to Chapter 18! Things might be peaceful for the moment, but will they stay that way? While trying to avoid an Estharian-Galbadian war, Estoc find an unlikely ally on the Galbadian side, but will that be enough? Marcus meets someone from his past, and comes face to face with the consequences of his actions, and how those he trained and inspired have changed the course of history. And Rinoa's talk with Squall about their relationship doesn't go as badly as Marcus trying to buy a hotdog – but then again, what could?**

**Riemann Hypothesis** – Centra does get overlooked in general, but the way the game explained things seemed totally unbelievable. I mean, think about it – the Centrans are highly advanced in science and technology, making flying buildings on other continents (so they must live all across the world), then their home continent gets overrun by monsters, and 80 years later, they've disappeared without a trace? Their civilisation might have declined a bit, but they wouldn't have died out so easily, not without some other natural disaster(s), or maybe a plague they were especially susceptible to, or a war. Which is where the original idea for this story came from – by asking the question _What Happened?_

"_The Law of Unintended Consequences, stronger than any written law. 'Whether or not what you do has the effect you want, it will have at least three effects you never expected, and one of those is usually unpleasant." – **Robert Jordan**_

Chapter 18: A Night Out

After the non-stop lying, treachery and deceit that made up your average social function in high society, Squall was overjoyed when Marcus ran from the police. Now it was a security matter, he had the perfect excuse to ditch this rotting garbage heap. All he had to do now was...

"Going somewhere, Squally?" _Failed._ Laguna was standing in front of him.

"There's been a security development." Said Squall. "We have to deal with it."

"Are you sure it's that significant, commander?" Estoc had appeared as well. "Security should be able to handle this."

"You think the police can track Marcus?"

"Of course not. I'd be very disappointed in him if they did."

"So you're going to trust him? With Ellone? After what he's done?"

"True, he is a mentally disturbed individual, of questionable sanity." Said Estoc. "But I've noticed something about him."

"Which is?"

"He sees the protection of Ellone as the sole reason for his existence." Estoc raised an eyebrow. "Something you should keep in mind, as his employer."

"What?" Squall didn't understand what he was getting at.

"In any conflict of interest, he'll always take her side. Even if he has to kill someone. Including you, if it comes to that."

"It won't." Squall's voice was ice. "I'd never do that."

"Of course you won't. We all know that." Estoc paused. "But does he?"

"Anyway, they'll be fine." Laguna cut in. "And Seed aren't involved."

"He's a Seed cadet."

"Not before you forge the paperwork."

Squall gave up the persuasion, and unleashed his trump card. "As you all keep pointing out, I'm the Commander of Balamb Garden, so I am in charge of all Seed affairs. And I have decided it's a Seed matter, so that's that. Unless you know of a Seed here that outranks me?"

Laguna was nodding, while trying not to laugh, and failing.

"So where are they?" Squall lost his patience. "Where is this Seed that can give me orders and make me so helpless that I have to obey their every command without question?"

"Behind you."

"Wha..." Squall suddenly realised, just before a hand came down on his shoulder with stunning force, and started dragging him away.

He _really_ shouldn't have taught his girlfriend how to hit nerve clusters.

* * *

"So... why were we running again?" Ellone asked.

"The police were after us. We had to get away from them."

"No, we didn't have to. I could have talked to them, explained the situation. And technically, they were after you, not me."

"So you want to go back?"

"No way." Laughed Ellone. "I didn't want to be there in the first place. And now I can blame you for leaving."

"Of course." Marcus nodded.

Ellone sighed. "That last bit was a joke."

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"Should I laugh?"

"Thanks for the offer, but it's a bit late now." Said Ellone. "Besides, it wasn't that funny." _Not that you would have laughed, anyway. Come to think of it, has anything ever made you laugh?_ "But you shouldn't overreact. You have to deal with people sometimes."

"I can deal with people."

"Without violence."

"I spoke with Quistis, Rinoa, and Selphie."

"And they cast a Silence spell on you." Ellone sighed. "Okay. Maybe that wasn't violence, but it didn't actually work. You need to learn to talk to people without getting them angry."

"I talk to you." Said Marcus. "You are never angry."

"Well... That's true." Ellone was forced to concede that point. For all his poor, or more accurately nonexistent, social skills, she'd never had a problem talking with him. "So why don't you talk that way to other people?"

"The ability is yours. Not mine."

"Thanks... I think." So she was a natural at talking to the socially incompetent. Not really a talent she'd wanted, but she couldn't say she was surprised. Not after Squall, anyway. "So... What about your new job? Are you looking forw..." Dumb question. "I mean, have you... thought about it?"

"I will always perform my duties, to the best of my abilities."

"That's not what I meant." Ellone tried again. "Being a Seed, a mercenary at Balamb Garden. Is it what you want?"

"No." Said Marcus. "But I accept it, and will not abandon my post."

"Again, not what I asked." Ellone interrupted. "So what do you want? There must be something."

"I want revenge. I always have." Marcus paused. "I always will."

"Revenge?" Why he wanted it was obvious, but there was one major problem... "But the Centrans are dead. Everyone who ever hurt you is dead. You killed nearly all of them yourself. You got your revenge."

"I want more. I want them to hurt more. I want to make them suffer as I did." Silence. "Killing them... It wasn't enough. It's never enough."

"Marcus, it's over. Please, you have to let this go."

"Psion said taking their lives was a fair exchange for what they did to me." Marcus shook his head. "He was wrong. It wasn't fair. They died and were forgotten, but I can't forget."

"Then don't try to forget." Said Ellone. "Just don't let the memories consume you."

"That will never happen." Said Marcus, and for a moment Ellone thought that maybe she'd finally got him to be optimistic. "There is nothing left of me to consume." Or not.

"What about the other GECs?" She asked. "Didn't they have plans? Ambitions? Dreams for the future?"

"Most did." Marucs nodded. "Melissa wanted peace, Ghost wanted freedom. Others wanted to see the world, or start a family. Some wanted just one thing, others wanted many. What Psion wanted, nobody knew. With Midnight, nobody asked."

"I see." Ellone felt guilty. "I must be a really big disappointment to them, right"

"Disappointment?" Marcus clearly didn't understand, not that that was anything new. "Why?"

"Well... After what they did. What they sacrificed." Ellone grimaced. "The purpose of everything they struggled to achieve. It really meant something, didn't it?" She hung her head. "I'm here because of them. They did so much with their lives, changed the world for the better, and I'm... I'm just here. I'm always protected, I can hardly go outside without a bodyguard, but is there anything I'm doing that really matters?"

She didn't know why she was saying this. She certainly didn't know why she was saying this to him. Was she really expecting an answer? Marcus had enough problems answering simple questions. "People are always risking their lives to watch over me, to keep me safe, and I resent them for it. The Seeds saved the world, but I was nearly made to destroy it. I'm the last descendant of the GECs, but I'm just me. What have I done that's so important?"

"You live your own life." Marcus said. "Nothing is more important than that. You are what we always wanted to be, but never could. You are not a slave, not a captive."

"And that's enough?" It sounded good, but...

"It is everything." He said. "Your life must always be your own. If your bodyguards cannot allow that, then they are not good enough. Replace them."

"They do protect me, though."

"Centra protected me." Marcus growled. "I was too valuable to risk my death from training or torture. Protection isn't enough. You should be free."

And he was right. It was strange, really. Marcus was incapable of being smart, or clever. He couldn't even understand everyday stuff, so anything complicated didn't even register in his awareness.

But sometimes, his ignorance cut through all the complications, and find what nobody else could see. Something so obvious, a simple truth she'd missed all along.

_You should be free._ Her life was hers by right. She didn't belong to anyone. Their expectations of her didn't matter. The choice was _hers_.

"Wow." She said. "That was really... profound."

"I apologize." Said Marcus. "I will try to avoid that in future."

And sometimes, his ignorance was just... dumb.

* * *

Rinoa dragged him to a secluded corner, and shoved him into a chair. "We need to talk."

She'd gone all serious, which meant it was going to be one of _those_ talks. This was going to turn out bad, unless there was a massive explosion in the next few seconds, and they had to evacuate the building.

But he could never be that lucky.

"What are you so scared of, Squall Loire? What is it about me... what is it about **us** that always makes you want to run away?"

"It's not..." Squall couldn't finish. He couldn't lie to her, at least not like that. She was mostly right, but for all the wrong reasons. He didn't want to run away, but he couldn't get closer without lowering his guard. And when his guard was down...

And she was calling him Squall Loire, the full name that he never admitted to. That was a bad sign. He couldn't stand being called Squally, even when nobody else could hear it, but at least it meant she was in a good mood.

Rinoa was still waiting for a reply, and if he stayed silent, she'd tear it out of him. Maybe literally. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like? What is the problem?"

_If I let you in, then I can't protect you as well. Not good enough to make sure you'll be safe. If I let my guard down, someone could kill you, and there's no way I could ever allow that to happen._ But he couldn't say that, and he couldn't lie to her. So he couldn't really say anything. Again.

"Is it because I'm..." She stopped. "What might happen? In the future? What I might... become?"

"That's not it!" Squall snapped. "I told you that didn't matter, and I meant it! I'll always mean it!" Everyone was staring at them in a way that suggested future tabloid headlines, as if there wasn't enough already. "I don't care what everyone else thinks. That isn't you, and I'll make them believe it if I have to."

"Even if the world turns against me? You think you can fight the world?"

"Marcus did it. And I can beat him."

"Even in social skills." Rinoa sighed. "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say."

* * *

While trying to lighten the mood, Ellone caught sight of a hot dog vendor. "You wanted to get used to modern food, right?"

"Yes." Marcus followed her to the stand. Luckily for both of them, there wasn't a queue, which meant nobody would try to begin a conversation or start asking questions, both bad ideas right now.

"Hey there! What would you like?"

Marcus looked at the menu. And kept looking.

"You going to order, or what?" The vendor finally said.

"He'll have an extra-large, with all the extras." Ellone didn't figure Marcus to be a picky eater, but he did seem to eat a lot more than his body shape suggested.

"Okay." The vendor looked between the two of them. "Bit slow, is he?"

_You have no idea._ "Sometimes." She gave her own order, then noticed the vendor was looking at her strangely.

"You look like..."

"Yeah. I get that a lot." The explanation usually worked.

"And he... Well, that news report on..."

"Yeah." She cut him off again. "He gets that a lot, too." This wouldn't have worked on a reporter, but for just casual conversation, it should be okay.

"Here you go!" Ellone reached for her purse, but Marcus got there first, pulling out a wedge of banknotes and handing one to the vendor.

As she reached for her hotdog, Ellone suddenly became aware that she'd failed to notice something, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

Well, she'd figure it out later. At least everything seemed to be going okay...

"YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?" The vendor exploded.

Or not. The vendor looked about to ram his spatula into the Centran's skull, and Marcus had already moved in front of her, guard up and ready to attack. The scene was a few seconds away from an explosion of blood and violence... and probably cooking fat as well, but that really wasn't important right now.

"YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE, YOU LITTLE..."

"STOP! Everyone calm down! Please?" Ellone shouted. "What exactly is going on?"

"He just..." The vendor pounded a fist to the table top. "He thinks it's funny to... LOOK!" He handed her the banknote.

Puzzled, she looked at it. The face in the centre wasn't one she recognised, but that didn't mean anything... after all, lots of countries printed their own gil notes, and the notes could be interchanged from one country to another. And even if the vendor thought it was a forgery, his reaction was way over the top. She stared at it for a few seconds, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

Then time stood still, as she read the lettering. The big, clear, very obvious lettering that she somehow hadn't noticed until now.

The lettering which read IMPERIAL BANK OF CENTRA.

_Oh no._

This was what she'd failed to notice. If Marcus was paying for the hot dogs, where had he got the money from?

Using **Centran** currency. In **Esthar**. If there was anything more likely to get you lynch mobbed, Ellone didn't know it. And that was when people thought it was a joke. If anyone even suspected it was the real thing, then... Her imagination failed her.

Why did things like this keep happening to her all of a sudden? Her life had made sense before the speech, and now... Disaster after disaster. Marcus was one move away from charges of murder, and all she'd wanted was a couple of hot dogs, for Hyne's sake...

"I'll handle this." She told the vendor, then pulled Marcus back, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Don't I keep telling you to check the money people give you?" She changed to a whisper. "_act like you understand what I'm saying"_ Back to normal voice. "How many counterfeit notes have you ended up with? Why don't you listen for once?"

"I... What..." Marcus was trying to act confused. It was convincing, but it wasn't really acting.

Acting annoyed, Ellone handed the Centran banknote to Marcus, then paid for the hot dogs with her own money. "Sorry about that. He never listens, and he's always way too gullible."

He still looked mad, but seemed unwilling to start a fight, and Ellone dragged Marcus away before the vendor could change his mind.

After they were a safe distance away, Ellone tried to satisfy her frustration by taking savage bites of her hot dog. It didn't help. "Using Centran currency in Esthar? What were you thinking?"

"I thought... I would need it. I asked the base AI for money..."

"And it gave you this? Why would it think..." She remembered something she'd read about AI limitations. The knowledge of an artificial intelligence could be boosted in any number of ways, provided you had enough hardware, but an AI that could actually _understand,_ even the simplest concepts, was practically impossible. "It didn't think, did it? And neither did you. It just followed your orders." She sighed. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "If you absolutely have to buy something, ask Squall for an advance. Never, and I mean never, let anyone else see those banknotes. Burn them all, the first chance you get. "

"I will." Marcus nodded.

"Great." Ellone started walking again. "Now we need to keep moving. He'll probably start telling others about this, so the further away we are, the better."

"Confirmed." Marcus was quiet for a while, then. "Do you want this to continue?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I am causing trouble. Complications. These are not things you want to happen. True?"

"Well..." Picking fights at society functions? Beating security guards unconscious? Going on the run from police? Almost causing a riot? Of course she didn't want any of that to happen. Who would? (Apart from Seifer.) But...

She was actually enjoying herself. Compared to what should have happened tonight, an empty social function with crowds of meaningless hangers-on, and only a few stolen moments with people who she actually cared about, she was actually having a good time. And...

She was taking care of somebody else. Even though it was Marcus, a one-man army that was even less fragile than his unbreakable sword, she was responsible for him. And that was the first time something like that had happened since...

She couldn't think of it ever happening before. She was always the protected, never the protector. Of course, Marcus would still be the protector if anyone was dumb enough to attack them, but she was still helping him, more than the other way around. It was weird... But so was the whole situation.

"Nah. Not true." She said, and meant it. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. In fact, nothing like this had ever happened to _anyone_ before. Her dull, predictable life had suddenly shifted into an exciting unknown she could never have imagined, and she was free to choose her own path into unforeseen territory. So why shouldn't she enjoy it?

"You said you wanted to see what Nathan did with this city, right?" She suddenly thought of something. "Come on! This way!"

* * *

Squall had escaped, but Rinoa still couldn't figure out what was wrong. It wasn't his usual fear of letting anyone get close, or she would have fixed it by now. It wasn't the fact that she was a Sorceress, as nothing new had happened regarding that, and even if it had, Squall's feelings wouldn't have changed. And the idea that he was involved with another girl was so absurd it wasn't worth considering. Squall barely had enough time for her, and that was after she'd forced him to have something approaching a social life.

So what was it? Squall was being more evasive than usual, so maybe she could use a little help. Quistis had grown up with him, so maybe she would have some idea what...

And now the last person on the planet she ever wanted to talk to was approaching. It was 'that man' Caraway, the person her mother had, for some inexplicable reason, got married to. She refused on principle to ever think of him as her father, as admitting they were blood relatives was annoying enough.

Her mother had been a wonderful singer, beautiful and famous. So why would she ever agree to marry an arrogant, cold-hearted workaholic, who treated her and Rinoa as a trophy family? Yet another thing she'd never figure out.

And now there was going to be yet another discussion with him. About how she was being irresponsible, and wasn't thinking about her future, and how she should have her spine surgically removed and obey his every order without thinking. Okay, so he hadn't actually said that last one out loud, but she could tell he was thinking about it.

"Ah, Ms Heartilly. I was hoping we might have a word... Why, if it isn't General Caraway of the Galbadian Military! Hello!" Very few people could find it this funny mocking Caraway in public, and since Laguna was on the other side of the hall, that meant General Estoc. "Such a coincidence, us meeting like this!"

"Nothing you do is ever a coincidence, General Estoc." Caraway muttered. "Why don't you stop pretending for once?"

"Sorry, can't do that. I'm the head of the Estharian Intelligence Service, you see, so it's part of the job. Me pretending is like you... giving orders." Said Estoc. "Can you talk to someone without doing that? When giving orders is a very bad idea?"

Even Rinoa had to admit that Caraway wasn't anywhere near stupid enough to see what Estoc was getting at.

"So why are you really here?" Said Caraway. "Spying, or lying? Or is it both?"

"Oh, don't be like that, Caraway. Our first few meetings were strictly business, and since at that time, you were under strict orders that every Estharian should be shot dead on sight, I couldn't really tell you my true identity now, could I? Besides, why are you complaining? The technology and weapons were supplied to you, at the price we agreed, and you made good use of them to further your career. And weren't you very pleased with the first shipments? I seem to recall you saying something along those lines..."

"I didn't suspect an Estharian would want to help me." Said Caraway. "I served in the army to help my country against its enemies, especially you."

"We didn't want to help you, Caraway. And you were our enemy." Said Estoc. "You just weren't the biggest one. Vinzer Deling was in line to control Galbadia completely, and the only way to oppose that was to give more power to others. You were the least worst alternative."

"Politics make for strange alliances."

"Very true, especially now." Estoc nodded. "The world creeps ever further towards war, General Caraway. Where do you stand?"

"Where I always stand. I will give my life, and the lives of every soldier I command, to defend Galbadia."

Rinoa rolled her eyes at this. Just like always. War was the solution to everything, according to Caraway. After all, millions of dead soldiers couldn't all be wrong, could they?

"But I will never sacrifice the lives of my men to satisfy the greed of politicians. Threaten us, and we will respond. Attack us, and you will regret it. We do not trust you, but if you remain peaceful, we will do the same."

"Sounds good to me."

"I thought it might. But not all those in power share your views, do they?" Caraway glanced at Christopher Ferris, the arms dealer.

"Unfortunately, there are those who want war. In your government, as well as mine. And we are taking steps to ensure they will not control Esthar foreign policy."

"Make sure you do. As you enjoyed pointing out, I have my own problems to deal with." Caraway turned to walk away. "Try not to embarrass yourself in public, Rinoa."

_So I can embarrass other people? How about I force-feed you your own medals, you worthless..._

"Well." Said Estoc. "That went better than expected. Apart from the family bonding, which went exactly as predicted."

"He doesn't know what family means. But siding with peace, and admitting it... I didn't think he'd do that."

"Well, Caraway's a slow learner, but he can learn sometimes. After his country being ruled by two dictators in a row, Vinzer Deling then Sorceress Ultimecia, both of whom weakened his country by starting wars for personal gain, even he has to admit Galbadia can't afford to risk the same thing again. I'm still not sure if he supports peace entirely, but he knows the best way for his country to regain its strength, military included, is to play nice, make the appropriate diplomatic noises, and stop rocking the boat. At least for now."

"He must hate that."

"Intensely." Estoc was smiling. "Fun, isn't it?"

"Hell yeah. But making a fool out of him isn't going to help you. You still won't get any more information out of him."

"Oh, I know that. I was just insulting him for my own personal amusement."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"Here we are." Said Ellone. "Liberty Plaza."

They were at a wild grassy area, the soft gentle lamplight of the area offset by the towering skyscrapers on all sides. A scenic piece of the countryside, in the middle of one of the most built-up areas on the planet.

In the centre was a statue of a man with a sword held ready, but in rough civilian clothes, rather than a military uniform.

"Nathan." Said Marcus as they approached the statue. "But he always wore combat gear, so why..."

"He said the war was over, so we should look to the future, instead of dwelling on the past." Ellone frowned. "But that doesn't explain the sword, though. If the war was over, why does the statue have him holding a weapon? Who is he going to attack?"

"He's not attacking." Said Marcus. "His stance and balance have a different purpose."

"What?"

"I taught him that position." Marcus picked up a stick, and copied the statue's posture. "It looks aggressive, but it is not. It is a guard position, best against multiple opponents, attacking from all sides. The last hope of defence, against overwhelming odds."

"That makes sense." Ellone smiled. "I always thought a statue of him ready to attack didn't suit him somehow."

"No." Marcus shook his head. "It would suit him. He took to the sword and gun as well as any warrior I ever knew, always ready to attack, no matter the cost, whatever the odds."

"I don't mean that. I know he fought in the war, I know how many Centrans he killed, but..." Ellone paused. "After the war, I think he found another purpose. Look at the inscription."

Marcus read the words inscribed at the base.

_Stranger, you now stand where a new city was built by those who had won their freedom from the Centran Empire._

_You stand in a place where none will be judged by birth or by station, only by their actions._

_You stand in a city where every individual will always have the right to live as they choose, as long as they always give that right to others._

_You stand where all live free, for everyone, from the most powerful lord to the lowliest man or woman, bows to the same law, without favour or prejudice._

_Always uphold these values, stranger, and we will always be your people, and this will always be your home._

_For this is where you stand:_

_ESTHAR_

"This was the spot where Nathan decided to start building Esthar." Said Ellone. "And everything else followed."

"And is it as he dreamed?" Asked Marcus. "Is every person free? Is everyone judged by actions, not by birth?"

"Well... Not exactly, no. But we try." Ellone admitted. "Esthar isn't perfect, but things are pretty good for the most part. There's still discrimination, and prejudice, and even corruption, but Uncle Laguna is cleaning things up, bit by bit. And now the Adelists aren't a problem anymore, thanks to you, things should start getting better."

Marcus nodded, but didn't say anything.

"People said he always looked a little guilty, you know." Ellone continued. "When he talked about not judging someone by their race. But nobody knew why. He must have felt bad about hating you, just because you were a Centran. But you forgave him, right?"

"There was nothing to forgive." Said Marcus. "No need for guilt. The Centrans destroyed his life, everything he cared about. And I was Centran. He had every right to hate me."

"Other Centrans destroyed his life." Ellone reminded him. "Other Centrans murdered his family. It's wrong to judge the many by the action of a few, and you can't condemn everyone just because of what the majority did. You can't take responsibility for your entire race, only for yourself. Can't you see that?"

"She's right." A voice cut through the air. "But you still don't listen, do you, Empty One? Even after all this time."

Marcus whirled in the direction of the voice, hand clutching for a sword that wasn't there. Ellone was hardly any slower, searching in a panic for the speaker. 'Empty One' was one of the more popular nicknames Marcus had during the Centran Rebellion, which meant someone here knew exactly who he was.

But nobody was there. Just a little old lady sitting on a bench. No police, no would-be attacker, no...

Wait. _How old? _The Centran war was around eighty years ago, so...

"You've hardly changed at all, Empty One." The little old lady looked up, smiling. "But I have."

Marcus was looking at her, but there was no sign of recognition. Ellone searched through her memories, well, what she'd seen of Marcus's memories, anyway. A significant meeting with a little girl, who wasn't a GEC...

Then she realised. "You were sent to kill a family of three, two parents and a little girl. You were wearing a Terminator uniform. Remember? You knew they weren't enemies, so you told them to run. And they didn't believe you at first."

"I remember." Said Marcus. "He thought I was going to shoot them in the back. As if that would have made a difference..."

"To being shot in the front?" Said the old lady. "Yes, I remember. So long ago, yet I remember every word." Her smile faded, and she pointed at the statue. "You broke his heart, you know. I still remember when Nathan gathered his few remaining followers, and went to fight the Sorceress Adel. He knew he wasn't going to win, they all did, but he couldn't just sit by and watch that evil woman take over his city. But even at the end, he always hoped you were still alive, that you'd come in at the last second and save the day. Just like you always did, during the war." She coughed. "So why didn't you help? Didn't you care? Or were you just hiding?"

"I wasn't..." Marcus started.

"He wasn't hiding!" Ellone almost shouted. "And he did care! But he couldn't do anything from cryostasis!"

"Cryo storage?" The old lady looked surprised. "The Centrans did that? Why didn't they just kill you?"

"They didn't put me in cryostasis." Said Marcus. "We did it to ourselves. All the GECs did. The Centran army had us surrounded. Faking our deaths by short term cryostasis was our only hope of survival, but..." He went silent. "It went wrong. Everything went wrong. It should have been six months, but it wasn't. It should have kept them alive, and it didn't!"

"Only he survived." Ellone explained. "And it only released him a few weeks ago. It wasn't his fault."

"I see. But that never stops him blaming himself, does it?" She smiled again. "That's what really made him the best, you know? Not the lives he took, although he took more than anyone else, but the lives he saved... He never left his soldiers behind, never threw their lives away to save his own. Of course, Nathan did the same, but... He learned from you. All the best rebels did."

"It was war. We did what we had to."

"No. They had to." The old lady corrected. "You didn't have to, but you chose to. But you still don't see the difference, do you?"

"We were all a part of the rebellion." Said Marcus. "That didn't matter."

"Of course it mattered!" Ellone protested. "You were their leader! You weren't just a part of it!"

"Leader?" The old lady shook her head. "No, that wasn't it at all. That wasn't what he was. You should know him better than that."

"What?" Ellone couldn't believe it. "He wasn't leading the rebellion? But he was..."

"He wasn't the leader. A leader's just the one in charge." She said. "He **was** the rebellion, every part of it that mattered. Just him. The Centrans were already trying to kill my family, so my parents joined up as soon as they could. I was too young to fight or help with anything, but I listened to a lot of people. It was always the same argument, over and over again." She took a deep breath. "How can we win? They said. The Empire is too big, their armies are too strong. They've got too many weapons, they're too well trained. They'll kill us all, they said. And the argument against that, the only one that worked and made them shut up, was him." She pointed to Marcus. "Look at him, they said. That's Commander Kensai. He always leads from the front, because there's not one soldier in our whole army that can keep up with him. The Centrans throw everything they've got at him, all their best troops, all their biggest weapons and machines, every chance they get. And he just kills them all, and then kills all the rest. The Empire wants him dead more than anyone else, they said. You say they're going to kill us all? They can't even kill one man."

"And when I was thought dead? Did they desert?"

"Some lost hope. Most got angry." The old lady said. "But then they started blaming you. Because you weren't there, so they had to believe in themselves. And they knew they weren't a match for you. They couldn't handle fighting without someone telling them what to do, so they found new leaders. Leaders who told them what they wanted to hear, at the price of their freedom."

"But not everyone was stupid enough to listen, were they?" Said Ellone. "That's why they came here."

"You know a lot of history, Ms Loire." The old lady looked surprised. "Especially history that was banned, and never taught anywhere. How much have you told her, Empty One?"

"She knows everything." Said Marcus. "What I was created to be, what they tried to make me become, and what I did to stop them."

"Really? Nathan never knew any of that, and he knew more about you than anyone else. You were always a mystery, always an enigma without a solution. They all wanted to find out who you really were, and none of them did." The old lady smiled. "And you told this young lady everything? Have you changed so much, Empty One?"

"I have not changed at all." Said Marcus. "She is not them. She is different."

"Really? How interesting." The way she looked at that moment made Ellone feel uncomfortable. "Now, go stand by the statue for a while, hmmm?"

"What?" For once, Ellone couldn't blame Marcus for being confused.

"Go on." The old lady waved her hand. "Girl talk. Shoo."

Ellone sighed as both of them looked at her. _Why am I always the one in charge?_ "Ummm... It's fine, Marcus." He walked off, and she sat down.

"The Empty One taking orders." Said the old lady. "Not something I ever thought I'd see. So how did you do it? Why is he dancing to your tune?"

This was dangerous territory. "It's a long story."

"I'm not in any hurry."

_Great._ "I... remind him of somebody he knew. During the Rebellion." Ellone knew she shouldn't carry on, but she did anyway. "He got the two of us mixed up, to start with. That's what happened at the speech."

"Really? But he knows now, doesn't he? That you aren't her?"

"Yes, of course, but..."

"So why does he still follow you? And trust you? If he hasn't changed that much, how can you control him?"

"I don't control him!" Ellone snapped, then thought about it. "Well... I don't want to. It's only when he goes completely out of control that I have to..." This wasn't helping. "But I don't give him orders!" Another rethink. "Except when he forces me to. But that doesn't mean I'm... I mean, I'm not... really... making sense, am I?"

"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure you're trying your best."

"It's not enough." She'd been wanting to talk to someone about this for some time, and this person was probably the only one she could get away with telling. "The Centrans really messed him up. Everything that life's meant to be, everything that his life could have been, they ripped it out of him. Just because they didn't have a use for it. Just so their weapon wouldn't have a flaw. And when he finally broke free of them, when he could have changed himself for the better, he didn't realise it was possible, didn't understand what freedom meant. And now... He's alone, he's abandoned, and he's dead inside. And I'm trying to help him, because I'm the only one who understands. And I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"Good."

"Good?" Ellone couldn't believe it. "How is that good? I'll get it wrong!"

"Then keep trying, until you get it right." The old lady leaned in close. "But that's not the most important thing. He follows your orders, remember? So what orders are you going to give?"

"I'm not going to give him orders! I'm not controlling him! And why would I, anyway? We're not at war with anyone."

"Not yet."

"No." It was obvious what she meant. "I don't believe that. Esthar and Galbadia are just threatening each other again, just like always. Everyone says there won't be a war."

"Yes dear, I know what everyone says. But from someone who's heard all this before, a little piece of advice. When people talk this much about what they believe, it's not proof that they believe it. It's proof that they want to believe it, but they can't quite bring themselves to."

It was disturbing how fast that made sense to Ellone. "So you think it'll happen? There's going to be a war?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." Said the old lady. "But you're the People's Princess. If Esthar goes to war, you'll be caught up in it too, and so will he. Will you give him orders then?"

Ellone thought about that. She didn't want Marcus to get caught up in another war, not so soon (soon for him, anyway) after the last one. But if the two world superpowers, Esthar and Galbadia, went to war, then everyone would be involved, like it or not.

And Marcus wouldn't need to choose sides, either. To him, Galbadia fighting Esthar meant that the Galbadian army was attacking her, so he'd start killing them immediately. Probably before the soldiers had actually mobilised. Marcus would be fighting the war before most people even knew a war was happening.

Which meant there was only one solution. "Yes, I'd give him an order. But just the one."

"And what would that would be?"

"Stop the war. Stop it now."

"Really?" She seemed amused. "Just stop the war? You think it's that easy?"

"Easier than destroying the Centran Empire."

"Good point." The old lady laughed. "And that would be a good order to give him. Which hopefully you will."

"You don't believe me? You don't think I mean it?"

"I believe you mean it now." Her smile faded. "That doesn't mean you'll always stay that way."

* * *

Marcus read the inscription again, but it still didn't make much sense. Not everyone had won their freedom, some had just stolen it from those who had earned it. Some never even tried to fight, just running and hiding in terror, preaching about how resorting to violence was always wrong, yet always expecting others to fight and die for them. They were the ones who always screamed the loudest for help, yet never did anything to help anyone, even themselves. Yet according to what he'd heard, Nathan had accepted them, protected them, along with all the rest.

Even at the last, against the Sorceress Adel. It was strange, in a way. The Sorceress of his time had stayed in hiding throughout the entire Centran Rebellion, even though the Centrans would have either killed or stored her forever in cryostasis if they'd found her, and the rebels would have welcomed such an ally.

At least, they would have welcomed her to begin with. That had been Nathan's point of view, that the Sorceress hadn't joined the rebels because she knew they'd betray her the moment they didn't need her any more. Some agreed, most condemned the Sorceress as a coward. Marcus thought Nathan could have been right, but didn't see how it mattered. If she wasn't helping either side, then as far as he was concerned, she didn't exist. But Nathan had taken the side of a Sorceress, and a Sorceress had killed him and taken over the city he'd built. It was a different Sorceress, obviously, but it still seemed strange. Nathan might even have found it funny, as everyone had always said he had a strange sense of humour. Marcus didn't know, as having any sense of humour was strange to him.

And even at the last, Nathan had been expecting him to help, when he should have known better. Marcus had never 'helped' anyone, unless not killing them counted, and he doubted that. He hadn't even been helping the rebels, not really. He wanted to destroy Centra, but even he couldn't fight their armies on his own. So he fought with the rebels, using them to get what he wanted.

Nathan had always argued that that wasn't the case, that he was fighting with them because he supported their cause – a world free of Centra. That the rebel leaders were using him to bask in the glory, claiming his achievements as their own. That last part was true enough, as Marcus knew well. They were using each other to get what they wanted, a 'deal' of mutual convenience. Everyone thought that the rebel leaders were getting the better part of the deal, but that had never mattered to Marcus. He was getting everything he wanted, and that was all he cared about.

And this latest arrangement wasn't much different. Squall wanted a weapons trainer, good enough to train students to be among the best. He'd decided to use Marcus for this purpose, and in return, Marcus would use him to get an identity in the world, the requirements to function in whatever society this world had, as well as food and a place to sleep. And money, which he might have a use for at some point in the future, so he might as well keep it.

"Thinking about Nathan?" It was Ellone, back from... whatever she was talking about. Marcus wasn't going to ask what. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him.

"He achieved his dream. He built a city that was a home for those wanted to be free, and died defending it. He did well. He would have been proud, I think."

"And you? Aren't you proud of what happened here?"

"Me? Of what? I was in cryostasis before Esthar was built. I had nothing to do with it."

"But Nathan learned a lot from you." Said Ellone. "Do you really think he only learned how to kill? You taught him to be strong, to fight for what he believed in, and keep fighting even when the battle seemed hopeless."

"I taught him war. This was peace."

"But I saw him in your memories, remember? The first time you met him, he was just an angry kid looking for a fight." Ellone waved her arms round. "Could someone like that have done all this? He changed because of you. This city stands, at least in part, because of what you did. And you still think you have nothing to be proud of?"

"I did what had to be done. Pride..." Marcus faltered. "It gets in the way. I can't allow things to get in my way. These were Nathan's dreams, he made them real. I just wanted to destroy the Empire. If I did anything else, it was by accident."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't mean..." Ellone stopped. "Wait a minute. Dreams? I thought you said he only had one? To build this city, right?"

"No." Marcus shook his head. "There was something else he wanted, but he said it wasn't as important. It was about his home."

"The town that the Centrans destroyed? He was the only survivor, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but only he called it a town. Everyone else called it a village. A village in the mountains that nobody else had ever been to or even heard of, just a marker on a map." Said Marcus. "The people who lived there were self sufficient, and liked it that way. Even Nathan admitted he would have probably lived out his whole life there, if not for what happened. He wanted revenge."

"So he wanted to kill every Centran?" Ellone seemed disappointed. "Like you did?"

"No. The revenge he wanted was different. He said the worst of it wasn't what they did, but why they did it. They knew the village wasn't a threat, could never be a threat. They didn't have to kill everyone there, the Centrans knew that. They just didn't care. They didn't think his home mattered, so they destroyed it just because they could. So Nathan said the best revenge would be to prove how wrong they were, how big a mistake they'd made."

"How?"

"He said that history itself would be his witness. That the Empire they were so proud of would be crushed into the dirt, with everything they were so proud of despised and forgotten, and the name of his home would soar into the skies. He said that when the Empire was just nightmares and stories to frighten children, his home would be known and remembered with pride, always spoken of with respect, and everyone, everyone in the entire world, would know its name."

"Wow." Ellone sounded impressed. "That sounds poetic. It's a pity he failed."

Marcus turned to her, puzzled. "He... failed?"

"Well... of course he did. I mean, everyone knows Nathan as the founder of Esthar, but I never knew where he was from before I saw your memories, and I don't know anyone else knew, either. Even now, I still don't know what his home was called."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. Still, maybe I could change that. I think people should know about Nathan's past, and what he became. And why." Ellone seemed to have made up her mind. "So what was it called? You said nobody had ever heard of it, right?"

"That is correct. During the war, nobody apart from Nathan had ever heard of the village of Esthar."

**Revenge indeed, and poetic justice for the Centrans, who had their invincible Empire beaten, in part, by a insignificant teen from an insignificant village that nobody had ever heard of. It's almost time for Squall and the Seeds to head back to Balamb Garden, but soon the Puppet Master will reveal that their supposed 'victory' in their initial conflict was little more than an illusion. And can Marcus really let go of the past so easily, just by staring a new job? Is it really a case of just Starting Over?**


	19. Starting Over?

**And here we are! The last chapter of part 1 of the Centran Legacy, and things are pretty quiet for the moment – like the calm before the storm (apocalypse). World War is looming on the horizon, but at least Seed have won their first battle against the Puppet Master – or so they think... **

**Incidentally, is anyone out there looking for a new ebook? Not this – a new, original piece. I'm just sorting out the cover, then it'll be ready for launch. And yes, I am canvassing for support, reviews, and anything else that could raise its profile. Marketing is definitely not my strong point. And if you like my work, why not read the sample chapter + prologue when it's out? Come on... pretty please?**

**Riemann Hypothesis** – I did wonder about why Nathan would have named the city Esthar, as he didn't seem the type to name it after himself. (Nathan Esthar?) As for who the Puppet Master is, I'm not saying – although after this chapter, you should have 3 main suspects (Assuming the Puppet Master's real identity has appeared in the story yet, which may not be the case) which I'll outline in the next chapter. As for the Puppet Master, he did have a reason for the torture, but it isn't what you think, and it certainly isn't good for Marcus. Odine will make an appearance later, but he won't be a match for the Puppet Master. Odine may be a scientific genius, but the Puppet Master has a talent for strategic planning that makes Machiavelli look like a rank amateur, and that's not all...

_I am Centran._

_As a Centran, I am superior._

_Through superiority, control._

_Through control, power._

_Through power, victory._

_Through victory, conquest._

_Through conquest, Empire._

**Catechism (literally, statement of faith) of soldiers of the Centran Empire, believed to be centuries old at the time of the Centran Rebellion. There have been persistent rumours that the rebels had their own catechism, but since no record of the words has ever been found, this is rarely believed. The only noteworthy statement on public record regarding this was from General Nathan, hero of the Centran Rebellion and founder of Esthar, who said "_The rumours are wrong. There was never any triumphant, morale-raising catechism in support of the rebels. As for how the rumour started, I will make no comment. We should respect the dead, and leave them to rest in peace. Especially those who were never shown the proper respect in life._"**

Chapter 19: Starting Over?

For once, Squall was on his own. Rinoa was talking about something with General Estoc, Quistis was handling public relations, Irvine and Selphie were... occupied, and Zell was stuffing his face with hotdogs. As for Seifer, as long as he didn't start a fight, Squall couldn't care less.

Finally, he could relax, without anyone pestering him or trying to give some worthless so-called advice. Life had been a lot simpler when he'd always been alone, and people had given him space, without filling the silence with meaningless chatter.

But had his life been better? He thought not, but at times like these, he wasn't so sure. He had friends now, but did that make him weaker? Slow him down? Distract him from...

He noticed someone making their way towards him. Arthur Ferris, part of Ferris Industries and younger brother of the idiot who was trying to get elected as the Estharian president and start a war with Galbadia. Squall didn't know much about Ferris Industries, but Estoc had given him a quick rundown on what to expect from the Ferris brothers.

_Arthur's a cold-blooded workaholic, even by your standards. Mother died when he was very young. The brothers have never liked each other, or agreed on anything. No known relationships, doesn't seem interested in women at all – or men, come to that. Highly intelligent, and always one step ahead of the competition. You should get on with him well enough, but watch yourself. He's all business, all the time, so if he tells or gives you anything he doesn't have to, it's because he knows he'll make a substantial profit from it sooner or later, and probably a lot sooner than you think._

Which meant Arthur wanted to discuss Seed business. Well, that was fine by Squall.

"Ah, Commander Squall Leonhart. You've made an excellent showing of Seed capabilities in battle, but I was curious about other areas. For example, how would you handle a covert operation?"

"Most of our... better known operatives wouldn't be involved, but we do have other agents who specialise in those areas. Apart from myself, only the Seed operatives chosen by the client would know anything about the contract, although we do insist they have all the information about their objectives. We don't send people in blind, naturally."

"Naturally." Arthur nodded. "And how do you choose which contracts to accept?"

"Well..." Squall talked about moral responsibility and international anti-terrorist laws, nearly all of which he'd memorised earlier. He knew when something was right and when something was wrong, but legal accountability had never been his field. But since he was supposedly the boss (except when Headmaster Cid took an interest, or whenever Quistis was involved, or Xu couldn't balance the accounts, or when Rinoa decided otherwise) everyone had to hear it from Commander Squall Leonhart.

Even if Squall didn't have a clue, or give a damn, about what he was saying.

Arthur was directing the conversation towards corporate espionage, which meant he was going after his brother. Of course nothing he said could be taken as actual proof of that in any way, but it wasn't hard to tell his intentions.

Not that Squall had any objections. If Arthur took over Ferris Industries, the odds of war between Esthar and Galbadia would plummet, and hopefully stay that way. And Seed having a good working relationship with a leading arms manufacturer would be the icing on the cake, of course.

The discussion continued. Arthur must have known that Squall was only a novice on Seed procedure, but didn't do or say anything to show he'd realised. _Probably because he knows he's got nothing to gain... _Things were going well, which usually meant things were about to suddenly get worse.

Then he saw Rinoa coming towards him, which proved his point. She was the natural opposite of Arthur, and despite what everyone kept saying, opposites didn't always attract. Like sweet and spicy, or in this case, more like matter and antimatter.

"Ah, Miss Heartilly. Congratulations on the liberation of Timber. Your leadership of the Forest Owls resistance movement showed excellent strategy."

The source of that strategy kept his mouth shut. He'd never wanted to be famous, but couldn't somebody, just once, at least allow him to take a little bit of credit for what he'd done? Riona's resistance group had been the chocolate teapot of resistance groups before he'd been assigned to them.

"Really?" Rinoa wasn't pleased. "And why are you taking such an interest in Timber all of a sudden?"

"Oh, it's not sudden." Arthur's voice was perfectly calm and pleasant. "And it's not just me, either. Timber's independence is attracting all sorts of attention, both political and economical."

"Timber's already in poverty, and you want more money out of them?"

"Timber's poverty is all the more reason that Timber needs to invest in their infrastructure, which Ferris industries... well, my part of it, anyway... is best placed to support." If Arthur had been any less agitated, he would have been carved out of a block of ice. "And if you're accusing me of profiteering, I really must protest. My trading standards exceed every legal requirement, and I have given them very favourable terms. Rich, loyal customers are far more profitable than poor and desperate ones, obviously, so it's in my best interests to help Timber back to prosperity. And despite being the market leader, I do have my competitors, all of whom would be only too eager to take advantage if I exploited the situation."

"So you're helping them out of the goodness of your heart, is that it?"

"Of course not." Arthur half-smirked, half-smiled. "It's a mutually beneficial business arrangement. They're happy, I'm happy. Ask them yourself, and you'll find they're very grateful for my help. And the gratitude of a nation is a very valuable thing to have." He turned to leave. "I'll be in contact about what we discussed, Commander. I'm sure hiring Seed would prove to be a valuable investment."

"Thank you, Mr Ferris." Squall nodded, keeping polite while also keeping an eye on Rinoa, making sure her fuming hadn't reached dangerous levels.

"Who the Hyne does he think he is?" Rinoa scowled. "The gratitude of a nation... He's after Timber's natural resources!"

"Of course he is." Estoc said from behind, and Squall almost jumped. "Everyone is. Galbadia just took what they wanted when they were in control, but now Timber is free, all kinds of raw materials are up for sale. And many industries, and governments, want what's on offer."

"So he's going to extort them?" Rinoa was shocked.

"No, no." Estoc shook his head. "The people of Timber aren't that stupid. They know what their resources are worth, and they won't give them away for nothing."

"But Arthur will be getting a good deal, right?" Squall understood. "That's why he's helping them now."

"Of course, but it's not just that. Some of Timber's more valuable resources are difficult to refine and slow to produce, so there's always a lot more demand than there is product to sell. If Arthur gets preferential treatment there, they'd give him the right to buy a far bigger share than any of his competitors. He'd dominate the market without even trying."

"And we're helping him?" Rinoa sighed, admitting the point.

"Would you rather help his brother?" Squall asked. "Christopher wants to kill Galbadians, Arthur wants to sell stuff to them. Christopher wants a world war, Arthur wants a worldwide brand name. And you're having trouble picking sides?"

"Arthur's finally making his move." Estoc nodded. "It took him long enough."

"You were encouraging him, right?" Squall was puzzled. "You want Christopher taken care of so badly, why not do it yourself?"

"Bad idea, Commander." Estoc raised an eyebrow. "Very bad idea. The only thing every country and section of society can agree on right now is that they hate the government. The warmongers hate us for being spineless cowards who surrender to the enemy, the pacifists hate us for rushing headlong into war, and everyone hates us for being too soft on other countries and too harsh towards our own people."

"That doesn't make sense." Rinoa protested.

"It's Public opinion." Estoc shrugged. "It never does. Laguna's still popular, so that helps with the worst of it, but everyone's looking for an enemy. And since we're the government, we're the easiest target."

"So you can't interfere." Squall pointed out.

"We always interfere, Commander." Said Estoc. "But we can't be seen to interfere. We can help things along, but someone else has to be publicly responsible for what happens, so the government isn't officially involved. Which is why this is our best option. Company takeovers happen all the time, and if Arthur takes over Ferris Industries, Christopher won't have the financial and political backing needed to be elected President or start a war with Galbadia."

"But there'll be others taking his place, right?" Said Squall.

"Unfortunately, yes." Replied Estoc. "A lot of people want war, and some are rich and powerful enough to influence their countries to get it. Once Christopher is dealt with, we should be able to cope with the others for a while... at least in Esthar. I don't have that much confidence in General Caraway's abilities to deal with Galbadian extremists, but for the time being we don't have much of a choice."

"More trouble. Is there anyone here who isn't trying to start a war?" Squall looked around, and saw a depressed-looking man in a cheap suit, with everyone around him seeming to take detours to avoid getting too close. "Who's that? And what's his problem?"

"He's the Dollet Minister of Culture." Said Estoc. "And he's, well, the Dollet Minister of Culture."

"He doesn't look that bad." Rinoa pointed out. "What did he do? Bribery? Fraud? Tax evasion?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." Said Estoc. "He's actually very honest, especially for a politician. Even I couldn't dig up any dirt on him. But then he got promoted, and given the job of organising the Victory in Dollet Day celebrations."

"What day?" Rinoa frowned. "I've never heard of that."

"Well, you've heard of Victory in Esthar Day, yes? When we defeated the Sorceress, with your help, and saved not only the city, but possibly the free world as well? At least, that's what all the posters said."

"VE Day." Said Squall. Laguna might have all the restraint and caution of a suicidal lemming that had just found out it had rabies, but even he had to admit the Estharian President could throw one hell of a party. And VE Day has certainly been that. "Waste of money."

"Scrooge."

"Actually, VE Day was considered a great success." Estoc continued. "So Dollet wanted the same thing. They chose the day they fought off that little invasion from Glabadia, again with your help, and declared it a national holiday. Victory in Dollet Day."

"And?" It sounded dumb to Squall, but he didn't see how anyone could screw up a national holiday. You just gave almost everyone the day off work and held parties in the street, right? Easy. "What did he do wrong?"

"Well, I suppose he didn't actually do anything so badly wrong. It's just that he was in charge, and he didn't notice it until he'd spent all the money on posters, CG graphics, adverts, presentation material and branded souvenirs. All with the shortened version of the holiday name."

"And?" Rinoa looked as puzzled as Squall felt. "What happened?"

"You still don't get it?" Estoc tutted. "Think about it for a moment. What did everyone call Victory in Esthar Day? The shortened version?"

"VE Day, of course." Said Rinoa. "So Victory in Dollet Day becomes..." Her voice tailed off as she realised.

So did Squall. "VD Day? They were going to celebrate VD Day? Why in Hyne's name would anyone... How much stuff did they make?"

"Enough for the whole country." Estoc smirked. "And then some. Newly promoted, you see. He got a bit too enthusiatic."

"So what did he do after they fired him?" Asked Squall.

Estoc said nothing.

"They did fire him. Didn't they?"

"Not exactly, Commander. You see, at the time they hadn't announced any of it to the public yet, and after wasting such a fat wedge of taxpayers cash on a celebration of... well, they had to keep everything quiet. If they sacked him, questions would have been asked, and the truth would have gotten out. That's politics, after all. Some people are given positions because they know too many secrets, and some people only keep their positions because it's too embarrassing to get rid of them." Estoc shrugged. "Besides, they've got bigger things to worry about, as do we all. Dollet's army isn't big enough to cause much trouble for Esthar or Galbadia, but their navy has always been highly trained, heavily armed, and ready for battle. When war begins, Dollet will be involved from day one. They can't afford not to be."

"And all because of the Second Sorceress War." Rinoa shook her head. "If only Ultimecia hadn't..."

"Hardly." Said Estoc. "If it hadn't been for that Sorceress, we'd already be at war. After everyone realised they'd been stupid and so easily tricked, they're more cautious than they normally would be. And right now, that might be the only thing stopping us from another world war."

"For how long?" Squall muttered.

"Not long enough." Said Estoc. "We have contingency plans ready for every situation I can think of, but their effectiveness will probably be limited at best, beyond eliminating a few key figures."

Squall could have asked if one of those situations involved a Sorceress being suspected of starting a war, and if Estoc had a contingency plan to kill Rinoa. But he didn't say anything, for two reasons.

One, he knew General Estoc would have said no.

And two, he knew Estoc would be lying.

* * *

"Your sword... The Curse of the Betrayer? Do you believe in it?"

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "Every known owner of the sword was betrayed and murdered, but not every owner was known, and not every record may be accurate. And the sword itself was one of the greatest treasures of the Empire, wanted by every Centran who ever held a weapon. To wield the Blade of the Betrayer was to be a target. The curse may be nothing more than that."

"But you don't sound convinced." Ellone pointed out.

"I don't know. But it might be why I survived."

"Why you survived? Isn't the curse supposed to mean that the one you trust most will..." Ellone suddenly realised. "But you never trusted anyone, did you? Not once?"

"No. To trust someone is to lower your guard to them. I was to be the perfect warrior, and trust was a weakness I was not permitted to have."

"What about Nathan?"

"He was an ally. He was capable, he was loyal..."

"But did you really trust him?"

Marcus stood in silence, then shook his head. "No."

"So if the curse is real, doesn't that make you immortal?" Ellone tried to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it. "I mean, the one you trust most in the world, right now, that would..." Her voice tailed off, as her thoughts suddenly caught up with her. "Wait a minute. ME?"

Marcus appeared to be slightly surprised, although even for her, it was hard to tell. "Yes." He said finally. "That does make sense."

"How does ANYTHING about that make sense? Me? Kill you? Leaving aside my chances of success for a moment, which are about the equivalent of a single snowflake putting out a blast furnace, why would I want to? To get your sword? I don't..."

"My sword is yours."

"Well, thank you, but I don't want it. I'm sure your sword is the best out there, but if I wanted a sword, I'd want one that wasn't cursed."

"I could get you another..."

"And back to my main point, AGAIN... I don't. Want. A sword. When it comes to shiny pieces of metal, I'd prefer a necklace. I'm a fairly normal girl in that respect."

"Girls prefer necklaces to swords?"

"Well, not just necklaces, but... usually, yes. Me and Rinoa, anyway. Selphie would probably want the latest gadget... or a portable expresso maker, but I think Irvine already got her one of those. Quistis... might actually prefer a sword, come to think of it. Wait, what was I saying?" She wondered why a curse she didn't believe in was getting her so irritated. "I'm not killing you. And certainly not for a sword. I wouldn't kill anyone to steal something, whatever it is." She tried to calm herself. "So the curse is fake, right? It has to be. Right?"

"Perhaps. Unless Ghost's theory was correct."

"Ghost?" The GEC tech expert had seemed like a decent guy, unlike... "Psion didn't have a theory?"

"Psion regarded superstition as a useful tool to control people, but nothing more than that. He saw the curse as an excuse people invented, to hide their greed to possess the Sword of the Betrayer. Ghost wasn't sure about the curse itself, but he suggested the actual meaning of the curse might be different."

"Different? How?"

"In that the curse meant the one you trust the most would be the cause of your death. They would usually be the killer, but they didn't have to be."

"That doesn't sound any better." Ellone frowned. "And it doesn't make it any more believable, because I'm not going to cause your death, either."

"Not by choice. But the fight when we first met – what if I had died then? If Ghost was right, that would have satisfied the curse."

"I don't get it." Ellone shook her head. "If the terrorists killed you, why would I be the one to blame?"

"I would never blame you." Said Marcus. "But if they had killed me, then you could have been considered as the cause of my death. I only went to the speech because you were there."

"But that doesn't mean..."

"When the fighting began, I didn't get involved. I didn't even know what each side was, or what they were fighting for. But when one side attacked you, I killed them. Then, when I thought the other side were against you, I attacked them as well. Without you, I would not have been involved."

"So I forced you to risk your life?" Ellone didn't feel good about that. "That's not much better than betraying you."

"Why?" Marcus seemed mystified. "I am a weapon of war. I look human, and I was created from what could have been human, but I am not human. I can never be human. To fight, to kill, is all I am. There is no other meaning to my existence."

"But you can change that! You can choose to..."

"I can't change the nature of my existence. I can't choose not to fight. I have to fight. All I can choose is why." Said Marcus. "Protecting you... Is a good reason. The right reason. You saw my memories. You know I've killed for worse reasons." He paused. "Or for no reason at all."

"And I know that wasn't your fault. You were doing what you were told, but you didn't understand why it was wrong, and you didn't know there was another way. You can't take all the blame for choosing evil instead of good, when you didn't even know there was anything but evil in the first place! Can't you see that?"

"I can see perfectly. My eyesight is..."

"Enhanced, I know. Perfect 20/20 eyes." Ellone's voice dropped to a murmur. "It's the brain behind them that's the problem."

"What?"

"Never mind." She sighed. "At times like these, I wish these 'Chronos' abilities weren't so limited. You know, that I actually could change the past, and all that."

"You can't?" Marcus didn't sound certain.

"Well, of course I can't... Wait. You grew up with Melissa, and you didn't know the limits of her powers?"

"I knew her limits. I knew she could not change the past." Marcus stated. "But you are stronger, far more powerful than she ever was. I do not know your limits."

"So I can change the past?" Ellone couldn't believe it.

"I don't know." Said Marcus. "I know she tried to use it after the Lunar Cry, to save the millions of lives lost in Centra City when I sabotaged their defences. She failed."

"And since she wasn't speaking to you by that point, you never knew why." Ellone realised something. "Hold on. Psion allowed her to try? The Lunar Cry, the sabotage, the massacre... that was all his idea! And he just let her try and undo it all? Why?"

"Because he knew it wouldn't work. He said it was impossible for her."

"For her?" Ellone felt excited and scared, at the same time. She'd tried to change her past, to keep her family of Raine and Laguna together, to keep them alive whatever it took. But despite sending Squall into the past, into Laguna's mind and body of that time in a desperate attempt to change what had happened, it hadn't worked. She'd had to come to terms with what had happened, and accept it.

But... what if she was wrong? There was only one person who might know, and even though it was someone she was pretty sure she'd hate if they'd ever met, she had to ask their opinion. "But did Psion think it was impossible for anyone? You said the Centran scientists thought Melissa could unlock 'god-like' powers, right?"

"True, but they didn't know what those powers would be. All GECs were meant to be superior to humans, but the effects of Melissa's genetic pattern was the only unknown. Psion believed changing the past was theoretically possible, but only if both components of her power were strong enough, and testing a component separately was impossible at that time. He said the genetic pattern might have been strong enough to be capable of changing the past, or it might need further refinement. But he also said there was no way to tell, as the second component, Melissa herself, was far too weak to be even remotely capable of such a thing."

"What about my grandfa... I mean, Melissa's son? Didn't Melissa refuse to have him tested?"

"Psion said that the son was as flawed as the mother."

"So Psion did test him? Figures. Still..." The idea that she might be able to change the past was drowning out every other thought she had. It was impossible, but... impossible things had been happening a lot lately. "So I can control time." _Maybe. _"Or can I?"

"I do not know." Said Marcus. "At that time, it was only a theory, not a threat nor a weapon. So it meant nothing to me."

"So it's a maybe, instead of a no. That's something, anyway." But was it good or bad? Or something in-between? Even if she could change the past, did she have the right to? And what would happen if she did? If she changed the past, then the present changed too, in ways impossible to predict. People could suddenly cease to exist, and nobody would even remember them. Including her. One wrong move, and...

Then she realised Marcus hadn't said anything. That was strange. With what they'd just been talking about, there was something he had to ask for, something he wanted. What everyone wanted when they found out what she could do. Sometimes for a good reason, like Squall, sometimes not, but they always wanted it.

But Marcus hadn't said a thing. And he had more reason to want it than anyone else she'd ever met.

She looked at him, and he looked back, but that was all. And Marcus wasn't the type to hide things. Either he wasn't interested, which was impossible, or he hadn't thought about it, which was absurd.

"Well?" Her patience ran out. "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"Ask me to change your past. You know, arrange things to let you escape out of the GECs, or stop them experimenting on you in the first place."

"NO!" His reaction took her completely by surprise. "You can't change my past! You mustn't! Not my past! Any other past, but not mine!"

"What?" He looked ready to panic, which made even less sense than his usual actions, which were hard enough to understand as they were. "But if I can change your past, then maybe I can give you a normal life, right? Don't you want that?"

"No! You can't do that." He grabbed her arm. "That cannot be allowed to happen."

"Let go!" Ellone tried to pull her arm free, but Marcus was crushing it like a vice. "I said let go! You're hurting me!"

Marcus suddenly let go, jumping away from her. "You can't change my past. You can't!"

"Fine, I won't. It was just a thought." She rubbed her arm, trying to get the feeling back. Marcus couldn't have gripped any harder if he'd been a robot. "But why not? You've more reason to want to change your past than anyone, so why don't aren't you taking the chance? After all that happened to you, why don't you want to change it?"

"It cannot change. What I want is irrelevant. My past must remain as it is. It is the only way."

"The only way to what?" Ellone couldn't believe what Marcus was saying. He hated his past, she knew that. He believed himself beyond redemption, however much she and others tried to persuade him otherwise. But when offered a way out, he not only didn't take it, but was desperate to avoid it? "What could possibly be so important that you had to suffer so much, for so long, just to..."

"To stop Project Ouroborous. As long as that was achieved, nothing else matters."

"Ah." Yes, the Centran Emperor's plan to genetically lobotomise every non-Centran, permanently, before they were even conceived. That was certainly important. "But... that doesn't mean you had to..."

"No." Marcus stated. "I had to. Others were involved, but I was the driving force. I demanded that the Emperor be killed, I launched the attack. I stopped Ouroborous. But I only had the power to do so, because of what they did to me. If I was not GEC, I would have been helpless, even if I had known. So who would have taken my place? The best GEC at fighting would have been Shard, and she would have not stopped Ouroborous. She would have enjoyed enforcing it."

"Well, that... No." She shook her head. "The other GECs didn't want Ouroborous to happen either. They would have done something. They would have..."

"Lost. And died. They might have delayed it, but Ouroborous would still have gone ahead. Opposing it wasn't enough. They had to destroy it, leave no chance that it could ever happen again. They had to win, against the Empire. And the Empire had never been beaten before. To do that, they needed a perfect weapon, that nothing in the world could match. They needed me."

"And you won. You stopped Ouroborous. But..."

"And this." He pointed at himself. "Was the cost."

"But that's wrong! All of it! It shouldn't be this way!"

"But it is. And it cannot change. Ouroborous can never be allowed to happen. Against that, all else is irrelevant."

"Even when you're the only one who has to pay the price?" Ellone couldn't resist making the comment, even though it sounded petty.

"Who else could I trust?"

"And you don't trust anyone." She didn't want to admit defeat, but the argument was pretty much lost. Even if she did have the power, his past could never be changed. The risk was just too great. No matter how much Marcus deserved to be happy, if his freedom from the GECs could only be bought with the lives of everyone born since the Centran Rebellion, then it wasn't going to happen.

And in changing the course of history so much, would she disappear from existence? Or would her existence change, and if so, what would she become? A mindless slave, barely able to think or communicate? Or a pureblood Centran, a privileged descendant of one of the original GECs and a loyal servant of the Empire? She wasn't sure which was worse...

* * *

"Do you have anything to declare?"

"Huh?" Caryn took a moment to remember she was at Balamb customs. "Oh. No, nothing." She lined up to have her luggage scanned, and passed through without incident. Her mind began to drift off, wondering yet again why she was here, and what she thought she was doing.

Enrolling at Balamb Garden? Becoming a Seed mercenary? Being a hero? Saving the world? She'd had those dreams once, when she'd enlisted at Trabia Garden. Everything had been so much fun, back then. She'd got on well with all the other new local students on the first day, and although the studying and training was hard work, she was doing what she wanted to do, and she'd never felt better in her life. Her new friends had welcomed her as part of the team, trusted her, and they'd all vowed that they'd always be there for each other when it counted, and promised, no matter what, to be friends forever.

But forever hadn't lasted very long at all. Nearly all of them were dead now, most of them instantly from when the missiles hit Trabia Garden, with some unlucky enough to cling on for a few more days before their injuries finally claimed their lives. Of the few that survived, the physical wounds healed up eventually, but something inside stayed broken. They'd split up after that, all going in different directions in search of something they knew they'd never find. Caryn had promised to keep in contact, just like the rest of them, and just like the rest of them, she'd been lying. Seeing each other would remind them of what they lost, and none of them could handle that much pain. So they'd all given up and disappeared, just like her.

Except Selphie, who'd kept trying to get them back together. She'd been the toughest of them all, calling for vounteers to launch a counter-attack. Not many Trabian cadets joined her, but a few did. Caryn wanted to, but she couldn't face it. Not after what happened.

Only she couldn't forget, either. She couldn't do anything. And now she'd come here, to train as a mercenary **again**, even after what happened the last time...

So why had she come here?

_Because I've nowhere else to go._

The truth hurt, but she had to admit that Balamb Garden was her last chance. She'd tried running, and hiding, living a normal life as a civilian, but none of it had worked. She'd been terrified of someone coming to kill her, and when someone actually had, she'd been helpless. But then everything had turned upside down, and she'd actually killed someone, and now Squall had accepted her for training. Selphie said Squall only bothered with people who were good enough to do the job, so if he said she was good enough, then she was.

But what if he was wrong? She helped against the terrorists, but that was just luck. She wasn't disciplined, she wasn't focused. When it got dangerous, she couldn't even...

"HALT!" Somebody shouted, and she turned just in time for someone to slam into her and send her flying. The guy running past her only made it a few more steps before a security guard tackled him to the ground, then, after a brief struggle, he was cuffed and dragged away.

Another security guard helped her to her feet, apologising for the disturbance. Caryn assured him she was fine, and then suddenly realised how completely and utterly pathetic she really was.

A thief who hadn't even been trying to hurt her, and she'd been helpless. She was supposed to be enrolling in Balamb Garden, a prestigious school for elite mercenaries, the best of the best, and she couldn't even handle a petty crook. These security guards would never be anywhere near the level of Seed mercenaries, but they'd still handled the situation well, when she couldn't do a damn thing.

She was worthless. She'd always be worthless. So why was she here?

Caryn turned back. She'd leave, head somewhere else. There was no point in being here. Balamb Garden probably wouldn't even bother looking for her. It was time to stop pretending. She wasn't a fighter, she wasn't capable. She was too weak to do anything worth anything, or mean anything to anyone. She knew that. She'd always known that.

But...

_What will I be in the future?_

If she ran away now, then nothing would change. She would always be exactly the same as she was right now. But if she enrolled at Balamb Garden...

Then she might become stronger. She might become a mercenary, a Seed. A force to be reckoned with? A hero?

Hardly. She'd almost certainly humilate herself, maybe even get herself killed. But at least she wouldn't have to live like she did in Esthar, crying herself to sleep, screaming herself awake from the nightmares of her friends getting blown apart in front of her eyes. As long as she didn't have to go back to that, she could cope. Joining Balamb Garden would change her life forever, and whatever her life became, it had to be better than this.

Caryn left customs, and headed to Balamb Garden, wondering who her close combat instructor would be. Hopefully, it wouldn't be Squall. He was cold, harsh, and an obsessive workaholic, and trying to learn from someone like that would really be a problem.

* * *

"Here we are." Ellone stopped at a respectable house in a well-appointed but nondescript district. It was the kind of place where everything looked pretty much the same as everything else, and people were satisfied to keep it that way. "Now to gain entry... Ah." She pushed the branches of an ornamental bush to one side, and pressed her hand against a grubby bit of plastic stuck against the wall.

"Entry? Why are we here?"

"Somewhere to rest up for the night."

"You live here? But I was told..."

"No, nobody lives here exactly. It was Estoc's idea to have a few safehouses scattered around Esthar that we could use for emergencies, or when we didn't want public attention. There we go..." There was a clicking noise, and the door swung open. "Palmprint security scan. I was really amazed the first time I tried it, although it's probably pretty commonplace by Centran standards."

"I wouldn't know. I was a test subject, then a soldier, then a rebel. I was never a citizen of the Empire. I never knew how they lived."

"Maybe that's why you're different." Ellone went inside. "Why their madness didn't infect you?"

"Infection? Centran bioscience would never allow such..."

"I don't mean literally. I mean..." She thought about it. "The way they treated others. I mean... **Slaves**. That's wrong right there, but... Seeing all those people as worthless, just because of something so petty and meaningless... For them to accept Project Ouroborous as a good thing, when it would destroy their minds, their lives... everything! How could anyone even consider allowing it to happen?"

"They were Centran. Maybe a few would have thought it excessive... Perhaps. But it was the will of the Emperor, and not to be questioned. And to them, slaves were not human. They were resources, to be used."

"But not to you?"

"Me?" Marcus thought. "No, not to me. I could not see them as inferior."

"Could not?" Ellone was intrigued. "Not did not? You make it sound like it wasn't your choice. What made you feel that way?"

Marcus was silent.

"Sorry. You don't have to tell me if..."

"They were superior, not inferior." He spoke quietly, barely more than a whisper. "They were what I wanted to be, and never could. They were human, and I was not. I was jealous." Silence. "I still am."

"I can understand being jealous of their lives, but... You still think you're not human?"

"I don't need to think. I know. And you saw my past. You know what I did."

"Yes, I know." Ellone nodded. "But I still don't think you're right. I don't think you understand what it means to be human."

"Your thoughts are your own. But I know enough. I know what I am." Said Marcus. "And what I am not."

It was possibly the most polite way anyone had ever told her she was wrong. Ellone started to argue, then stopped.

Marcus wasn't going to change his mind, no matter what she said. Arguing was pointless... at least for now. She needed a strategy, a plan of attack. Some proof that he was human, in a way even he couldn't dismiss. But right now, she couldn't think of anything.

She didn't want to leave it like this, but she had no choice. For now, anyway. "Well, let's leave that for now. Only one bedroom, so... Which bed do you want?"

"Bed?"

"Yes." No response. "You know, those comfortable things people sleep on?" _What is it about Marcus that always makes me so sarcastic?_ "You didn't think you were going to stand guard all night, did you?"

"Yes."

"No. You've done enough self-sacrifice for this week. Estoc designed the security systems for this safehouse himself, and they're more than enough to protect anyone, including the government of Esthar. We're safe, so you're off duty."

"But..."

"Do I have to make it an order?" She'd backed down on the inhuman thing, but she wasn't giving way on this.

"No." Marcus said finally. "I will sleep with you as you wish."

"And that's one more to add to the list of things you'll never say in public again. Never ever, understand? Great. No need to bother with a change of clothes, and... What are you doing now?" Ellone watched Marcus pulling the bedsheets and pillow off his bed and dumping them on the floor. "If this is some kind of 'Spartan' thing, forget it. Using a mattress for once isn't going to ruin your fighting skills."

"It's not that." Marcus seemed hesitant. "I have a problem with beds."

"Really?" Ellone could only think of two possibilities, an allergy or a bad back. The first was absurd, given that he'd been genetically modified not to have any weaknesses, and the second was completely impossible, given that he had a overall fitness level exceeding the limits of almost every human being on the planet. "What kind of problem?"

"I keep falling out."

Ellone laughed, and couldn't stop. "You fall out of bed! How do you... I mean, why... Well, doesn't it hurt?"

"Not much. I don't wake up every time it happens."

"But why? What makes you move around so much?"

"My dreams. They don't allow me to be still."

"Oh." She stopped laughing. "Bad dreams?"

"I have no other kind." Said Marcus.

"Ah." The laughter was long gone, and guilt had arrived in force. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that. But you are not to blame." Marcus had finished with his makeshift sleeping area. "You cannot change things that happened long before you were born. That is not your failing. What has been, is done with."

"I know, I know." Ellone sighed. "But I'm still sorry, anyway. I know I couldn't do anything, but there were lots people around that could have done something. That should have done something. And I don't understand why they didn't."

"They wanted a weapon that could destroy any enemy. Whatever that required, they did it. Nothing else mattered to them."

"And the weapon the Empire wanted, destroyed the Empire. I suppose that could be poetic justice."

"Justice is poetic?"

"Sometimes. But you can sleep where you want. It's not a problem."

"It will be." Said Marcus. "My thrashing around will disturb you."

"I won't mind." Ellone fell onto her bed in a way that would shock any followers of her high-society news reports. "Just go to sleep."

Everything went quiet, apart from Ellone's thoughts, which were shouting at her at full volume. Only a few days ago, she'd had a fairly normal life, with nothing much to really worry about and far too grown up to believe in knights in shining armour. Then she'd gone to a speech with Laguna, not really a big event, and then terrorists attacked and were about to kill her. And then he'd appeared.

Not exactly a knight, but the last survivor of a race believed extinct, with most of the world only regretting that they hadn't died out sooner. And no armour, shining or otherwise. Not that he needed any, as getting shot and stabbed repeatedly wasn't something that seemed to bother him. It wasn't always something he noticed, either...

And everything had changed, her predictable life exploding into chaos and heading nobody knew where. She'd been resigned to spending her whole life never knowing where her strange powers came from, or what she was supposed to do with them. Her unique ability to control the flow of time would have always been a mystery.

But it wasn't unique, and she wasn't supposed to do anything. She, or rather her great-grandmother Melissa, was the product of an experiment, an attempt to give Centran purebloods godlike powers. And because Ellone had wanted so much to change the past, the power had awakened in her.

Finding out her family had been hidden in Esthar by General Nathan had been funny, though. The first time she came here, she'd felt a connection to this place, somehow. A feeling of belonging. At the time, she'd put it down to a childish fantasy, but now she wasn't so sure.

She wasn't sure how she felt about a lot of things, including being Centran. Well, one eighth, but that was enough for most people to want to kill her if they ever found out. Yet more lies, more things she had to hide...

Although she wasn't alone in hiding the past. A century ago, there had been millions of purebloods in the Centran Empire, and they had been the absolute rulers of the world, with the power of life and death over every human that walked the planet, and now...

Just one left. In less than a hundred years, an Empire that dominated the world had been reduced to a single person that nobody knew about.

And that scared her. If something so important could be destroyed so easily, and forgotten so quickly, then could everything that was so important to them be swept away even faster? Was anything safe in this world?

And then there was Marcus. All things considered, he seemed to be getting on relatively well with everyone. She couldn't say he was actually friends with anyone, (herself included, sadly) but he was surprisingly calm and polite with nearly everyone. Very surprisingly when it came to Quistis, considering that their first meeting consisted of her trying to blow his brains out with a sniper rifle.

Of course, Quistis had been remarkably mature about the matter as well, considering that Marcus had counter attacked with a grenade, burying her and Caryn under a pile of rubble and nearly crushing them to death. In fact, forgetting about the entire incident seemed to be in everyone's best interests.

And now, everything was quiet. Too quiet. Wasn't Marcus supposed to be thrashing around? Or couldn't he get to sleep? He'd said earlier that in the Centran War, you had to learn to fall asleep immediately when you got the chance, or you hardly got to sleep at all.

She looked at him. Marcus was laid on his back, in his original position. He hadn't moved at all. She watched, sure that he was about to start flailing about, wondering if she should wake him up or not when he did.

But he didn't. Marcus was silent and motionless, his face perfectly calm and disturbingly lifeless. She guessed he must be asleep, but either he wasn't dreaming, or for once his dreams were not only allowing him to be still, but practically encouraging it.

Weird. Maybe he was just having a good night. But the way he'd said it, it seemed every night was bad...

Well, she'd keep watching him a little more. Just to make sure. Just to...

And the next thing she knew, it was morning.

* * *

Marcus awoke slowly, gradually opening his eyes.

This was wrong. Waking up from a relaxed state was not something he did, even when exhausted to the point of collapse. And apart from a few training sessions, for the past few days he'd hardly done anything that required much physical effort. Fatigue was clearly not an issue.

Which meant... he'd been drugged.

Marcus reached for his sword, then remembered it wasn't there, and jumped to his feet in a fighting stance. He wasn't injured or restrained, which meant the target had been Ellone. He didn't know why they'd only kidnapped her without trying to kill him, but there wasn't time to think about that now. He had to find the kidnappers as soon as possible.

He was about to break down the bedroom door when he remembered to check the bed.

Ellone was asleep. Her breathing was perfectly calm and measured, as it should be.

He looked around. There was no signs of anyone breaking in, no violence, no trace of disturbances of any kind. Also, any drugs capable of keeping him unconscious would have given him severe after-effects, but he didn't feel anything strange. Which meant... what?

Marcus checked his bedsheets on the floor. His body had left a single, deep impression on the sheets and the pillow, but the rest was puffed up. He hadn't moved all night.

This was impossible. This didn't happen. Not to him. It couldn't.

But it had. What had Psion said about impossibilities?

_Impossible things cannot happen. If they do happen, then they are clearly not impossible, and therefore the flaw is either your understanding, when you have failed to realise something is in fact possible, or your awareness, when you have failed to notice something has changed to make it possible._

He understood his sleeping patterns, knew that sleeping peacefully was something he was incapable of doing. His understanding could not be at fault.

Which meant that something must have changed. Something was different. But what?

It was more comfortable than he was used to, but he had sometimes slept in far better during the Centran Rebellion. When settlements were captured, the rebels often went on a rampage, looting and rioting until almost nothing was left. The Blades were more disciplined than that, but even they chose to stay in the most luxurious accommodation available. It didn't make any difference to him, but Nathan had said Marcus joining them would raise team spirit and morale. Nathan was usually right about these things, so Marcus had gone along with it.

What else? Normal temperature, quiet and peaceful surrounding, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that could explain his abnormal sleep patterns. This had never happened before, so whatever had caused it must also never have happened before. But there was nothing in the room that was unique.

Maybe Ellone would have an idea. He looked at her, but she was still asleep.

Then he realised he was looking at what was unique about his sleeping quarters.

His train of thought derailed. This was impossible. This was something he could never accept.

But it was real.

* * *

When Ellone woke up, it took a few moments to remember where she was. Then she wondered if Marcus had been tossing and turning during the night. She looked around, and saw something she didn't expect.

Marcus was awake, of course, but she'd never thought he was the type to lie in. Him staring at the wall wasn't exactly normal, but for him, it wasn't that strange. The wide-open eyes were new, though.

_And why is he so tense?_ "Ummm... Marcus?"

"Yes?" He reacted, and turned to face her. "What is it?"

_Wow, now he's really tense._ "Nothing much, I just thought... is something wrong?"

"No." His words were rushed. "Nothing."

Well, it looked like Quistis had been wrong. Marcus could, in fact, lie to her. He could do it about as well as a brick could swim, but he could try.

"Okay, fine." Still, she wasn't going to push things. She trusted him, even though she wasn't entirely sure why. "I didn't notice you moving in your sleep though. Does it only happen sometimes?"

"No. It happens every time I sleep."

"So it happened after I fell asleep, right?"

"No." Marcus shook his head. "It didn't happen. I didn't move at all."

"Hold on. You just said it always happens."

"It does." Said Marcus. "But this time, it did not."

"Right." The weirdness scale had gone through the roof. Again. "Maybe because you were relaxed? Didn't have anyone to fight? Something like that?"

"That is... possible." Marcus didn't sound convinced, and Ellone didn't blame him. She wasn't a psychologist, but even she knew trauma never disappeared just because it wasn't relevant any more. And especially not with what he'd been through.

"Well, who knows? Maybe you'll stay this way from now on. Now come on, we have to go and meet up with Squall. After we get some breakf..." She remembered Estoc talking about all the safehouses being fully provisioned with preserved food supplies. The kind that could keep for over a year, and still be just as inedible as the day they were freshly ... congealed. "Forget that. We'll stop at a vendor on the way. Just get ready to explain how nothing happened."

"But things did happen. We..."

"Not those things. Different things. Which didn't happen."

"What kind of things?"

"The kind of..." Ellone had never tried to tapdance on quicksand, but this seemed to be the feeling she'd get just before she started. "Never mind. Just remember that when they ask whether it happened, it didn't. Just look confused and completely ignorant of the whole thing."

"What if I can't look like that?"

"You've been doing it fine so far. I'm sure you'll manage somehow."

A display screen flicked on, showed the online copy of the Estharian Times. Ellone ignored it, getting ready to leave.

"They got my name wrong." Said Marcus.

"What?"

"My name is wrong." Marcus pointed to the screen. "I am Brute, not Beast."

"They called you a Beast? They can't just..." Ellone saw the front page, with the large photo of her and Marcus, and the headline **Beauty and the Beast**. "Oh."

The photo was... a case of exact timing, to say the least. Marcus was jumping over the security barrier with a suitably heroic expression, while she was holding onto him tightly while looking like the typical helpless female.

She scowled. She'd be fending off non-stop questions about this for weeks. Every time she went out in public. And there wasn't anything she could do about it, because it was against her principles to hurt people just because they insulted her.

Then again, that only applied to people, right? These were reporters. Not people at all, really...

The article detailed his first appearance that night, and later exploits that night, made frequent references to the knight in shining armour bit, and every other cliché imaginable. A few paragraphs on her previous love life – well, lack of it, at any rate – and how Marcus had easily made it into the top ten of the latest 'Most Eligible Guy in Esthar' poll, and could be nearing the top five.

Ellone was surprised about that last part. Marcus? Eligible? Why would anyone think that? All right, he was physically attractive, and certainly athletic, but anything from the neck up was a lost cause. He was embarrassingly blunt, unbelievably obvious, loyal to the point of abject stupidity, and was so incapable of thinking for himself that he was mindlessly obedient to the point of...

Actually, now that she thought about him like that, shouldn't he be in the top three?

* * *

Squall woke up, and realised he'd been sleeping in a chair, and not a comfortable one at that. This was surprising, as the Estharian Presidential Palace was not somewhere he expected to find a shortage of beds. Or a shortage of anything, apart from good taste. This was where Laguna lived, after all.

He was still wearing the suit he'd gone to that social shi... function, as well, which looked worse for wear. He tried to remember what had happened last night, but there was a blank spot in his memories. He could remember talking with Arthur Ferris, then General Estoc, then Rinoa wanted to talk about... Something. Something he'd better remember, and fast.

The door opened, and Irvine walked in. "Hey Squall! You're up early!"

Squall looked at his watch. "It's not early. It's late."

"Hey, c'mon. After what you did last night, you should take it easy."

"I don't have time to..." The penny dropped, and with it, Squall's authority, composure, and most of his self-respect. "Wait. What did I do?"

"You don't remember? Damn, Squall, how could you forget all that? It was unbelievable! Even I've never done anything that crazy!"

"What?" Squall skipped the fear stage, and went straight to blinding terror. "What did I do? Tell me!"

"Well, you remember talking to that arms dealer guy with Rin?"

"Yes, I remember that. What else?"

"Then Estoc?"

"Yes! What else?"

"You remember headbutting the Galbadia chief of staff?"

"I did WHAT?" Squall felt his head for bruises. "Why?"

"I don't know. You were hitting the booze, he said something about Rinoa... But after he collapsed, the riot spread pretty quickly."

"RIOT?"

"Relax. The press aren't sure who started it. Although they did get photos of you sweeping Rin off her feet and running out the building and onto the main road?"

"They what?"

"Then the lorry swerved, and went into a bus, and... well, so it was a big pile up, but nobody actually died, right? That's gotta be worth something!"

Squall pressed his gunblade against Irvine's neck. "What really happened?"

"Too over the top?" Irvine shrugged. "I'll be more subtle next time."

"You want there to be a next anything, start talking."

"Okay, okay. You were in a bad mood all the time, had another argument with Rin as soon as we got here that went on for a while, then she locked you out of your room you were supposed to be sharing. Laguna tried to calm you down, you grabbed a bottle of something, locked yourself in here, and that was that."

"You're lying."

"Honest, that's how it went. You're not a social drinker."

"I'm not any kind of drinker. And if you're telling me the truth, where's the bottle?"

Squall took a step forward, then heard a shatter as a pain rushed up his leg.

It was another one of those days. The kind where waking up was a really bad move, and everything you did afterwards just made things worse.

He spent the next hour or so on autopilot, getting ready for the flight back to Balamb Garden. People didn't speak to him unless they had to, which was a welcome change. Ellone had turned up with Marcus, explained that they had stayed at a safehouse, and that absolutely nothing had happened.

Squall easily believed that last part. While he didn't completely trust Marcus, he knew that if or when the Centran lost control, there'd be blood and bodies flying in all directions. Marcus might be many things, but he wasn't the secretive type.

He'd also heard from Rinoa how Marcus wanted his body to be incinerated after death. It sounded paranoid, but Squall had to admit the Centran had a point. Even if nobody alive today knew enough about genetic engineering to use the DNA, it could be preserved and discovered in the future. Better to destroy it now.

He'd taken his seat in the Ragnarok early, wanting some quiet to think things through. Quistis had given him a report, saying it would clear up his doubts. Given that he was doubting practically everything at the moment, Squall didn't believe her, but taking a look couldn't hurt.

It was a list of close combat instructors, and their skill levels and experience. Prospective close combat instructors were also included, which mostly meant people who could fight okay, and were out of work or desperate enough to think they could teach.

But what made the report really depressing was their estimated salaries. Competent instructors were in high demand, and they knew it. Even the half-competent ones could demand wages that could tear through what remained of Balamb Garden's budget, and that didn't even consider what would happen when the other instructors found out. And when he got near the end of the list...

Well, they were affordable, at least. But telling the students to just hit each other with practice weapons would be even cheaper, and would get far better results.

And at the end of the list, there was Marcus Kensai. His experience was listed first, and to say it was impressive was, well... like saying fish had a bit of a talent for breathing underwater. Even if you only believed half the stories about the Blades, they had been the elite of the rebel army, ruthless and unstoppable by anyone's standards. And Marcus had trained them all – helped a lot by General Nathan, of course, but he'd been taught by Marcus as well.

But Squall had never criticised the Centran's skills. It was the rest of him that was the problem. Such as whether Marcus was actually insane. But that wasn't the real issue.

The real issue was that Marcus **should** be insane, without a doubt. People could only go through so much before breaking. If they got away from it in time, sometimes they got better, and sometimes they didn't. But Marcus hadn't gotten away from anything, he'd thrown himself further in, every time. Deeper and deeper, until nothing else remained.

Of course, Quistis would argue that Marcus was holding it together, that he could recover in time, become a useful part of society – a bit twisted and abnormal, obviously, but still acceptable.

But every time he heard that, Squall remembered Marcus with his body broken and all but snapped in half, drugged up to the eyeballs and laughing his head off, yelling that he'd 'beaten' Centra.

And that wasn't something that could recover, or be redeemed. Too bad for him, but those were the breaks. And he wasn't putting everyone at Balamb Garden at risk just to be nice, and certainly not to some genocidal maniac who...

Quistis had heavily underlined the latter paragraph. About the salary. The very, very low salary.

Squall hadn't realised that basic instructor wages were that cheap. And Marcus had accepted it, and Garden finances were tight right now, and they really needed a good close combat instructor...

_Damn._ It was tempting, he had to admit. But could someone like that ever be trusted? How could they afford to take the risk?

There was a note from Quistis at the end. _Yes, I know he's a risk, Squall. But there's always a risk. This isn't about teaching maths - If the combat instructor isn't good enough, then students are going to die. We need the best, and this is the only way we can get it. And you won't be the only one keeping an eye on Marcus, we all will. If something happens, we'll be ready. And if he won't listen, remember that Ellone is just a phone call away._

Quistis had a point. In fact, Quistis had a chain whip, with lots of barbed points. And as she'd made clear, he didn't really have a choice.

Fine. Marcus could stay at Balamb Garden as a cadet Seed, for now. He'd be useful, as long as he kept it together. And if he fell apart, then at least they'd have gotten some use out of him, and could dispose of him without too many questions being asked. It wouldn't be easy, but then, neither was everything else.

* * *

The puppet master stared at the box he held. It was battered, heavily lined with metal, and cool to the touch.

And within, it held the power to change the world forever. After all this time, it was finally his.

The mercenaries had believed that Marcus was the essential item he'd sent them to retrieve, and he'd allowed them to think so. Servants should only know as much as they needed to, and nothing more. If they lacked the intelligence to notice the obvious, it was their own fault. There was only one person that was essential, and that was himself. Marcus might have been useful, true, but he was wilful and independent, and could never be trusted. What was inside the box would become a far greater weapon, powerful enough to destroy any opponent with matchless speed and precision, fully obedient to his will.

But not yet. To develop this weapon would take considerable time, but he was patient, and had other weapons to deploy, other strategies and resources to develop. The world was already racing towards its own destruction, people from all countries and nations demanding war, begging to give up what little freedom they had, so hungry for domination they would eagerly chain themselves into slavery at his command, praising him as their saviour all the while.

But there were exceptions, and they would need to be dealt with. Seed had attacked his mercenaries ahead of schedule, but to destroy their opponents with hardly a scratch, Seed had performed a little better than expected. They would need to be monitored carefully.

The Galbadian government was barely rational, but aggressive and quick to react to pressure. They would need to be carefully nudged, convinced that his orders were their own ideas. And it would have to be done through an agent, someone clever, cunning... and expendable.

The Estharian government was dangerous. They already suspected, although they had no proof. They would prepare for the way they thought he would attack, guarding what they thought was important. Let them tire themselves chasing ghosts, flinching at shadows. Then when they finally relaxed their guard, they would realise they were already at his mercy.

As was everyone, and everything. They just didn't know it yet.

But for the moment, he would leave them in blissful ignorance, allow them to think that their petty and meaningless lives actually mattered. Let them dream of peace, and freedom, and all the other absurd delusions that they had. Reality would break them soon enough, taking away the burden of having to control their own lives, shaping them into what they had always wanted to be.

_Slaves._

* * *

Marcus was aware of Squall watching him carefully, but made no response. The Commander had every reason not to trust him. Marcus didn't even trust himself, so why would he expect it from others?

But others didn't act the way they should. President Laguna was relaxed around him, which didn't make sense. As the leader of a world superpower, Marcus shouldn't even have been allowed anywhere near him without guns pressed against his head. But Laguna hadn't shown fear, or readiness to fight. Could he really be that stupid to trust a Centran?

Or was it all a lie? Those in power had to be good at deceit, even Marcus knew that. Laguna's performance had been flawless, but it had to be fake. Nothing else made sense.

Rinoa was also behaving strangely, but that could be normal for a Sorceress. He'd been trained to fight Sorceresses, taught their strengths and weaknesses, and how to recognise their behaviour. Although if Rinoa was in any way a normal Sorceress, then most of it had been wrong.

She seemed to feel sorry for him sometimes, though. That didn't make sense. They had both been forced to accept a power that made them inhuman, so there should be something alike in how they acted.

But there wasn't. She was more emotional, but her emotions were far less destructive, less focused. More human. His training had taught him to be wary of the minions of a Sorceress, but Rinoa was no master of those around her. There were times when she could barely control herself. Her knight was clearly Squall, but he was no extension of her will, despite what Marcus had been taught as a Centran. Their relationship was stranger than most, at times mutually destructive, at others supportive or dependant. Despite being inhuman, Rinoa appeared to have a mating partner who did not only think of his own benefit, and she had friends.

Even among other inhumans, Marcus was an outcast. Something he should be used to by now.

And most of all, there was Ellone Loire. She had Melissa's power and appearance, but had inherited nothing else from her, and nothing at all from Melissa's husband Gregor. Ellone was not a fighter, but she was strong in other ways. Such strength had to come from somewhere, but where? Psion had assured him Melissa's son was weak...

But her strength could be explained somehow. It was her character defied all explanation. She hadn't distanced herself from him, even when it was clearly in her best interests to do so. Their first meeting had been in battle, so clearly he was useful to her then, and her approach was understandable. After that, he was useful as a source of information, the only one left who knew about her powers, what they could do and why she had them.

But now? His use had ended. She had protectors, a few that even approached his own level of skill, and no powerful enemies to speak of. She didn't need him.

She didn't need him at all.

Yet she continued to stay around him, when she had no need to. No reason to. So why?

But did Ellone need a reason? She was not a soldier at war, she had no great need to be efficient in her actions. She could spend time how she wished. It could just be basic curiosity, nothing more.

If so, that would be acceptable. But if it wasn't... Marcus remembered the female soldiers in the rebel army who had approached him for sex. His inhumanity should have made him repulsive, but his fame as the so-called hero of the rebellion had made him the opposite. Could Ellone be...

No. That was impossible. Ellone was not facing imminent death, and unlike the rebel soldiers, has a future to think of. More importantly, he knew she was intelligent, and rational. She knew his true nature, what he had done and what he was capable of. She knew how inhuman he was, and now had a full understanding of what that meant. Which meant it was absolutely certain that she could never see him in such a way, or ever have a personal connection with him of any kind.

He felt relieved, knowing that.

But his existence was about to change. He would be teaching combat, but in peacetime, when survival was not the only concern. It would be different, and he was already aware of how little he understood of how things worked in this time. He could overcome such a severe disadvantage in battle, but this was not battle, and he was not prepared.

There was also Caryn, the girl he had almost abandoned to rapists and murderers, before they attacked him, so he killed them. Ellone had said he had to make up for what he did. He would do that, but he had no idea how, or what with.

Too many questions. Too many unknowns. And yet...

His future... intrigued him. He was curious. He wished to know what the future held. And for him, that was something he had never felt before.

In his mind, he recited the catechism. His catechism.

_I am alone._

_Alone, I endure._

_In enduring, I grow strong._

_With strength, I am defiant._

_In defiance, I wage war._

_In war, I will die._

_In death, I will be free._

Yes. Death was freedom, he knew that. The only freedom he could ever have, no matter what they said, but... maybe death could wait a little while.

**Maybe it could, but that doesn't mean it will... And death hasn't exactly been kind to Marcus so far, has it? Next chapter will be an in-depth discussion about the backstory, the Centrans, technology and everything else that the characters in the story already know (or suspect), but which haven't been discussed or thought about yet. Stay tuned!**


End file.
